Thorin Oakenshield and the Conundrum of a Ginger Transfer Student
by kkolmakov
Summary: Thorin Durinson is a prefect, a dux and the uncrowned King of his year in Slytherin. He has his mates, his father is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and chicks love him! Life is ace, except for one little aggro: the new student, a ginger bird called Wren Leary. All the usual suspects from 'The Hobbit' in Hogwarts! [Thorin x my usual OC]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here we go! Since "Stealing Thorin's Thunder" has only two more chapters left, they are pretty much written and the story has sadly arrived to its conclusion, kkolmakov is setting on a new journey! Teen drama! Don't know why my barmy mind went here, but what can you do? :D**

**This chapter's first half was a teaser in "We Are Scattered through Time and Space" but don't miss the second half!**

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><p>Thorin wandered the King's Cross, lazily chewing his gum and staring at the shop windows. The barmy steel structure supporting the roof was old news, for the last three years he had to look at it every first of September. This year his chauffeur dropped him off too early, and Thorin was bored. Dwalin and Bofur would obviously arrive at the very last moment, Bombur would be out of breath, Bifur as usual his nose down in his iPad. Thorin stopped in front of a schedule board, and then he caught a reflection of a chick sitting at a table near the Upper Crust with a mug of coffee.<p>

He discreetly shifted so he could see her better, the black background of the board giving him an excellent view. She was definitely around his age, maybe fifteen, but definitely not older than him. She was small, a redhead, in skinny jeans and a baggy sweater under a military jacket, colourful scarf and grandpa glasses. Her hair was a barmy mop and was sticking out from a messy bun. There was a backpack at her feet, and all and all she looked… fit. And nervous, she looked very nervous. He spit out the gum in a wrapper from his pocket, turned on his heels and approached her with a wide grin.

"Wotcher," his mentally thanked his voice for not breaking. "How are you doing?" She lifted her eyes from her mug and started blinking frantically. It was probably some sort of a nervous habit, but looked cute. He also noticed her gulp nervously.

"Hi, I'm good, thanks." She had an obvious Irish accent. She also had very sexy lips, they were bright, the bottom one plump, no make up. She nervously pushed the glasses that were slowly descending down her turn up nose back to their place.

"Do you mind if I join you? I can get myself a cuppa and sit with you. You look like you are having kittens." She looked like a kitten herself. She blinked again, it did look adorable, and tried to discreetly check the clock on the wall. He grinned wider. "I also have just twenty minutes."

"I have a train at 11." She patted a pocket on her oversized khaki jacket and fixed the glasses again.

"Ace," he quickly got himself a coffee, he didn't like it black, but he didn't want to waste time, a latte would take forever, and he plopped at the table with her. "So, what's your name?" She winced slightly, and he rushed to fix the situation, "I'm John." He always said he was John, it was easier than what usually followed if he was honest.

"I'm Wren," she apparently was OK with her name. Or not, since she blushed. That looked amazing, her cheekbones flushed up, and she fidgeted with her empty mug.

"Cool name. Are you Irish?" He realised he shifted closer to her. She smelled of lilacs, and he liked how a little curl was bobbing near her ear when she would look up at him. She was ace, so fresh and unusual, and he pushed his hand into his pocket to pull out his mobile. He needed her number.

"Yeah, but I've moved with my parents here this year. Well, I'm being sent to school, and they have moved. But my dad travels..." She trailed away and blushed harder. She grabbed her mug and tried to take a sip. He knew it was empty, and he liked her fidgeting.

"Ace. What kind of school?" She suddenly jumped on her feet.

"I'll get another cuppa for myself."

"You won't have time to drink it."

"I'll take it in a cup," she rushed to the counter, and he quietly swore. It started sterling, and now the pull was going pear-shaped. She seemed to like him though, he knew the signs, he was good with chicks. He looked her over from his table. Yeah, she was fit. He could guess the shapely arse under that sweater, long slender legs, straight back, the hair was brill. He leaned at the back of the chair, wondering what got arsed up.

She came back with a cup to go but didn't sit. She was so titchy that she was almost the same height even though he was sitting.

"Listen, John, you seem nice… And..." She stuttered and stared at the plastic lid of her cup.

"Yeah, I get it..."

"No!" Her eyes flew up to his face, and she chewed at her bottom lip. He envied her extensively, he'd like a taste too. He rarely liked chicks that much from the start, but she was so ickle, so bright, so fit… "It's not this, but I'm going to this school, and it's a boarding school. And what's the point, right?" The red on her cheeks was burning furiously, and he smiled. She was right, but somehow he didn't want to give her up so quickly.

"How about you give me your number, and we can chat or something, and then we'll see? I mean, do you have FB? Or Instagram?" She was studying his face now, her eyes wide open, pupils dilated, the colour was odd, greenish brownish, and then she nodded.

She pulled her Nexus out of the jacket pocket, and an envelop fell out. He bent down and picked it up. He saw the familiar seal, red and hastily broken, and the easily recognisable crest, with the name, and _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_ written underneath it as if on a ribbon. He remembered his own very well. His father threw a party, and since then it had been kept in a glass case in his office in the Ministry. He straightened up, dumbfounded, they both stared at the envelope, and then she suddenly dove in and pressed her lips to his. Hers were better than he managed to fantasize in the last ten minutes. She tasted brilliant, and his head swam.

"I can't give you my number, but I'm very, very sorry..." She whispered into his lips, "You are such a ride..." She straightened up, a curl brushed his cheek, then she grabbed the letter and rushed away.

He looked at the clock on the wall. It was seven to 11, and he suddenly guffawed. She was certainly older than eleven, he wondered why she would even carry the letter with her. But then again the train wasn't that big, she would be easy to find. She was probably a transfer student, and he got up, wondering what house she was in. And then he noticed one mitten on the floor. He remembered the second one clenched in her hand, it was too warm for mitts, but she was overdressed altogether. The mitt was white and fluffy, and he lifted it to his eyes. It also smelled of lilacs. He started walking, his mobile vibrating in his pocket, it was surely Dwalin, but he didn't want to shake off this funny ticklish feeling. She would be on a train, and he would give her the mitt, and they would have a whole year ahead of them. He walked without thinking, his feet automatically carrying him to Platform 9¾.

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><p>It took a jolly load to get rid of all hello'ers and wotcher's and finally launch to find her. He had seen most of his friends two weeks before, they had spent a weekend in his country house, his father allowing them to "recuperate before school year" as he liked to call it, without much supervision. The "recuperation" involved brew and skinny dipping, strictly guest list.<p>

And still it took a while to start walking through the train. Dwalin and Gloin followed him, by now he felt almost uncomfortable without their presence behind his back, while Bofur, Bombur and Bifur stayed, their roaring laughter over Bifur's successes in Minecraft was probably heard in all carriages. He walked by the compartments, his eyes quickly scanning each, while he kept his face aloof and his chin up, when he saw her.

She wasn't in a compartment, she was talking to someone in the corridor. That someone turned out to be Bilbo Baggins, he was in the same year as Thorin, and surprisingly in Gryffindor, which was rubbish, because he was as brave as a bloody mouse.

Baggins's face was red from awkwardness, he was after all a boffin and was talking to a person with a fanny, but she had a sincere smile on her face, and then Thorin saw her pat the shortie's shoulder. That didn't feel good, and Thorin noted to himself that Gryffindor just lost five points. Baggins slightly jumped up and Thorin could wager his new broom the shortie's nose was probably twitching like a rabbit's in his usual clodish habit.

"Hey, Baggins, why don't you set the girl free?" Gloin's nasal voice came from around Thorin's shoulder. "She is in anticipation to escape your company, I reckon." Baggins swirled on his heels, but Thorin wasn't looking at his face. His eyes met her odd slanted eyes, and he saw she was cheesed off.

"_She _can speak for herself, and she tells you to sod off," her accent was stronger when she was pissed off. That wasn't going well.

"You have to forgive my friend here," Thorin stepped between two gingers their eyes locked in a death stare contest. "He had too much coffee this morning."

"That seems to be happening every morning," Baggins grumbled, and Thorin stepped to him wrapping his arm around the shortie's thin neck and pulling him into himself.

"Common, mate, we were just taking a piss. A bloke to a bloke..." Baggins weakly tried to jerk out of Thorin's grip but again he was more than a head shorter and couldn't be called hench, mildly speaking.

"Hey, Durinson, why don't you take your royal arse elsewhere?" Thorin knew this voice and was far from chuffed to hear it. Thea Martin, the curvaceous, mouth watering Thea Martin, with her rad tits and glorious arse, who had been playing hard-to-get with him for the last two years was standing in the open door of the next compartment. She shook her long chestnut waves over her shoulder, and her eyes dropped on the redhead.

"Hey you, Leary right? Come sit with us. And Baggins, you still haven't shown me that book you mentioned." She was tapping her foot in a high heeled pump, her fists on her round hips, and Thorin released Baggins who stepped back rubbing his neck. Seriously, it wasn't that tight, way to overact, plonker.

Auggie Anderson, Gryffindor's Quidditch captain stuck his daft head out of the same compartment, and Thorin saw the prick's eyes scan the aggro happening in the corridor. And then they fell on the redhead's perky bum. Thorin gritted his teeth, it was all getting botched up.

"Wotcher, boys," the usual wide grin spread on Anderson's face and then his eyes met the redhead's green ones, "Hi! I'm Auggie." She just had to smile back!

"Wren," her voice was soft and chummy, and Thorin stepped ahead. He fished her mit out of his robe's pocket and stretched his hand to her.

"You dropped it at the station, Wren," he made sure to sound as purry as possible. Chicks wouldn't shut their gobs about how his voice was ace. She turned to him, and he had to admit to himself she apparently didn't share the opinion, judging by narrowed eyes and stubbornly set jaw. She took the mit and threw a "ta" to him under her breath.

She then smiled to Baggins, and they all disappeared in the compartment. Thea Martin went in last, throwing him a pointed glare over her shoulder. Considering that his little ginger was left in a compartment with a shortie, him and his mates used to torment the first three years, until they grew bored of it, a chick he had been trying to get his leg over since she turned from a chubby chops with braids into a totty, and August Anderson whose nose he broke last year after the two of them decided that it was easier to resolve their differences behind Professor Sprout's greenhouse instead of barking at each other during classes, it was becoming quite obvious he'd have to work really hard if he wanted to bonk Wren Leary. More so, he could already see Gryffindor-ish daft indignation brewing in her eyes. As a transfer she'd be sorted once they arrived to school, and he could already imagine her in a red and golden tie. Anyroad, it would make it even more fun to take it off her and add it to his collection.


	2. Chapter 2

Thea liked the new chick. She was snarky, savvy, apparently travelled a lot, and had a funny quirk to her. The only downside was Auggie's ogling. Initially Thea thought he had taken immediate fancy to the new bird, which was ace in Thea's books, the barmpot desperately needed a bonk, especially after his last year's aggro with that blonde from Slytherin, but soon Thea realised it was the ginger's Dad Auggie was after. Apparently, and Thea had little interest in the game, Leary was the Seeker in Kenmar Kestrels, which according to Auggie was "brill" and "ace," and in Thea's humble opinion "bloody dull." Apparently the bird thought so too, because once Auggie started bombarding her with questions, she shrank on her seat and her cute little face became aloof.

"OK, shut your gob, Anderson," Thea aimed for commanding tone, and the bloke froze with his mouth half-open. Auggie was a totty, and a friend, and Thea gave him big eyes. Surely, there was a better use for the redhead's sexy red mouth than answering his endless questions about training, brooms and shite. "So, Leary, which house do you think you are going?"

The redhead twitched her nose, which looked very cute. She was ickle, and Thea really liked the skinniness, and the angular face, odd eyes, slanted, almost Asian. She had nice pins, extra long and shapely, but no tits. And the hair, the hair was rad. It was like a mop, the orangest of colours, and although the chick tried to make some sort of a bun, barmy springs of curls were sticking out in every possible direction. All and all, she was one of those birds that either you were barmy about, or you'd think she was a minger and a dotty titchy thing. Something told Thea that Auggie belonged to the first category.

"I don't know. My Da got me the book on the history of Hogwarts, and I looked it through. I'd think probably Ravenclaw," the ginger's voice was nonchalant and slightly haughty, but Thea was not daft. Smart or not, and apparently she considered herself such, the chick was nervous. And again they were apparently the first to talk to her, and it would be a pity to give her up to those boffins.

"And where did you study before?" Baggins finally dove out of a giant volume he was reading. Seriously, Thea loved Bilbo, but sometimes she doubted the Hat's choice. One wouldn't call him a wimp but, blimey, the kid liked to study! Auggie would sometimes take a piss, stare at Bilbo and pretend to fail to quite place Bilbo's face claiming it had been covered by a book for too long.

"I was home schooled. My stepmother taught me, and I had private teachers." The redhead leaned back on the seat. She had a nice worldly tude around her, she obviously had seen more in her life than Thea could ever hope for. She also had such sterling accessories! Thea couldn't tear her eyes off the redhead's right wrist. There was watch there, and Thea knew little about posh stuff, but this looked bloody expensive. But it was paired with a whole bunch of boho bracelets, the chick's nails were black, and something told Thea that the modest au naturel look the chick was faring now wasn't quite her usual deal.

"You could still fraternise with us if you are in Ravenclaw, we are no Slytherin," Auggie gave the chick one of his hundred watt grins. Thea internally applauded. The redhead, despite her relaxed pose and slightly bored grimace, was quite obviously bricking it, and Auggie was hitting the spot. Comfort the chick, show her warmth, she'd open up to you. Auggie was no wolf either, he had feelings, which was a vomit inducer in Thea's books, but despite the hipster sweater and fancy boots with brill lacing going all the way up her calf the redhead was quite obviously… well, a prude. Thea mentally rubbed her hands in anticipation, these two would be her project this year. She herself weren't looking for such calamity as a boyfriend but she bloody adored when someone would hook up through her soft but firm guidance.

They kept on talking till the train arrived to school, with a small break for when they had to change into their robes. The red didn't have any, and she looked quite uncomfortable. Thea shoved her elbow into Auggie's side and pointed at the ginger with her eyes. The boy didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned in to the chick and softly bumped his body into hers. "You'll love it in Hogwarts, Leary. The first week will be over, and you'll be ace." Leary looked up at him from under her lashes, which were rather nice actually, with a bit of mascara they'd look even better, and Auggie got a small smile from her.

Thea gave them couple weeks or so, and then snogfest!

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><p>The Start-of-Term Feast was at bloom, and Thea punched Anderson's shoulder.<p>

"Would you cut it down already? You are so sour my food seems to be going bad right on my plate!" The bloke made a funny face at her. Auggie was a sunshine, and a full package, the Captain of the Quidditch team, best in the Charms in their year, fit and smart, and a photographer. He also wasn't stuck up and was a good mate. Thea hated to see him so gutted. She guessed she had underestimated the effect the redhead had on him on the train.

Wren Leary was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. After arriving to school she was taken to the Headmaster's tower, after all they couldn't make her go through the Sorting Ceremony with the wee ones, and now she was wearing her new uniform, blue and bronze looked good on her. She was chatting with Elrond Rivendell, the Ravenclaw prefect and the biggest smart arse of them all, perhaps only a wee bit better than their star, Thranduil Mirkwood. Thea had a wee bit of thing for the tall blonde, probably something to do with his exceptionally long legs and small shapely arse, Thea preferred boys of a beanstalk build for no particular reason. Currently he was sitting on the other side from Leary, and all three of them were chin wagging.

After the Sorting Ceremony the Headmaster got up for a short speech. Thea liked Thrain Durinson, he was liberal and fair. With him replacing Minerva McGonagall, who decided to go back to teaching three years ago, muggle borns like Thea herself seemed to feel even better in the school. Altogether they said the school used to be much worse before McGonagall, these days there were muggle borns even among Slytherin students. Take for example Bifur, Bombur and Bofur, the Triple B as Thea called them. In the olden days they would have no place at the green and silver table, to say nothing of being the friends of the golden boy of the snake house. Thea wrinkled her nose.

The current Headmaster had only one flaw, and that would be his offspring. He was currently whispering something in the ear of his right hand thug, Dwalin Fundinson, and Thea realised Durinson's cold blue eyes were glued to the Leary chick. Thea smirked darkly. Tough tits, wanker, no way in hell she'd even look at him. Thea specifically remembered during the train ride the Leary girl to say something about "posh wankers with a stick up their jacksies." Even his fit arse and dreamboat profile and, let's face it, amazing hair were not going to help the privileged prick to chat up the redhead.

He was surrounded by his clique, the hench Fundinson, the Triple B, Nori and Dori, brothers from the North, and Gloin, the biggest prick of them all, an offspring of the family that still held on to the whole pureblood thing. Well, they don't make them more pure blooded than Durinson. His father the Headmaster, his grandfather was in the Ministry, they all had tall and beautiful blonde second wives and personal chauffeurs. Last year Thea was invited to one of those wild knee-ups Durinson was allowed to throw in his father's mansion, it was around Christmas time. For Christmas Durinson got a new Jag, he was apparently fascinated by muggle technology which he announced when the shiny new car was uncovered, and Thea imagined toppling the punch bowl on his head. Her parents had an old Honda Jazz. That evening she thankfully wasn't his main target, he was engaged chatting up that daft cow from Hufflepuff, and of course succeeded. A week after she was seen with red eyes, crying her face out over him completely ignoring her. Thea tried to feel sorry for her but couldn't. Why would anyone even go for it? Thea was all for a great shag and no obligations but boffing Durinson was like taking a piss in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. There would be too many other people around to look and to judge, and Merlin knew what lurgy you might catch. No, thank you, whatever sort of magic his pecker possessed, it was not worth it.

"Listen, Anderson, you can still manage it. I mean if she is up for it of course. There are always weekends in Hogsmeade, and she can ogle you during Quidditch and boast to her new girlfriends what a totty you are," Thea pressed her hands to the chest and battered her lashes in an imitation of sweet young love. That earned her a loud laughter from Anderson. Auggie was easy, and light, and warm, always with a smile, always a cheek.

"Well, my darling, you do remember last year, don't you? How lovely and invigorating my relationships with a girl from another House were and how gracefully they came to their conclusion?"

"She was from Slytherin," Thea hissed in theatrical whisper, "This time you'll be copping off with an eccentric know-it-all as opposed to an overambitious cold hearted bitch, might go a wee bit better." Auggie snorted and almost spat his drink.

"Thea, you'll be the death of me. Why is the physicality of it is the first thing that you think of?" Auggie faked uptight indignation, and Thea chuckled.

"Because we are seventeen, and it's all we think about. Confess, when you look at her, what's the first thing you think of?" Auggie threw a glance to the redhead, who according to all rules of teen comedy was currently eating a chocolate eclair, her little pink tongue licking the cream from her little fingers. Auggie emitted a theatrical groan and dropped his head on the table with a loud thud. "Tell me, Auggie," Thea continued in a sweet voice, "Tell me you are thinking of walking with her on the beach, holding hands and discussing Kafka."

"No..." Anderson's voice was muffled. "No, I'm not." Thea smirked. "I am imagining meeting her dad."

"Oh you!" Thea smacked him to the back of the head and heard him snorteling into his folded arm. "And if I were you I'd hurry up, look how Durinson is ogling her like she is a treacle tart."

Auggie's curly chestnut head whipped up, and he stared at the Slytherin table. Thea couldn't have chosen a better moment. Durinson was holding a cup to his lips, while his eyes were pretty much undressing the Leary chick, who was done with her eclair, and was laughing at something Rivendell was telling her. Her small hand lay on his shoulder, he looked endlessly pleased, and both Anderson and Durinson glared at the Ravenclaw prefect with Avada Kedavra written in their eyes.

"Oh I don't need it this year," Auggie groaned and dropped his head on the table again, "We have N.E.W.T.s, and if I'm lucky that internship of mine will go through..."

"Are you still hoping for Daily Prophet to accept you next year?" Auggie hummed confirming and slightly turned his head. He had lovely eyes, like chocolate truffles, thick black lashes, and Thea smiled to him widely and ruffled his silky waves.

"They will take you, no one has a sharper quill than you." He sat up and quickly kissed her cheek.

"What would I do without you, Thea, my love?"

"Not the foggiest. But I'll tell you what you are going to do since you have me. You are going to man up and save that red bird there from dirty sticky hands of the school stud. She doesn't know yet who's who in here. Look, she is all chummy with those poncy pricks, the next thing we'll see is her on Durinson's lap. Common, get her some Charm Chocs in Honeydukes_, _treat her to butterbeer, and a nice long walk to the Shrieking Shack, and she is all yours. Remember, she is the ultimate new girl, you can't go too corny with her even if you tried."

Auggie gave her a wide smile, and Thea patted his shoulder. The game was on.


	3. Chapter 3

Thorin entered the greenhouse that was still called Professor Sprout's though she hadn't been teaching for a while. Professor Longbottom was standing near a crate, his beanpole frame in slightly rumbled robe a familiar sight, and Thorin was once again reminded why herbology was his favourite class, and he happily greeted the teacher.

"Oh, Durinson, good to see you," goggles made Professor Longbottom look even barmier that he normally would, and Thorin smirked. "No need grinning, Durinson, grab yourself a pair. Obviously if you still want to have a pair of eyes by the end of this class." A bright purple plant in the crate gave a derisive hiss, and Longbottom patted its leathery leaf. "No need to be fussy, dear."

Thorin grabbed a pair of goggles, and he was tying his long hair in a ponytail, when the Leary chick came into the greenhouse. She was wearing the uniform, which looked as if an elf had just handed it to her a second ago, and Thorin confirmed to himself that she was definitely a virgin and a prude. By Merlin's beard, the knot on her tie was impeccable, and the shirt was as white as Dumbledore's beard on his portraits. Her mental hair was in a braid at her back but plenty of her barmy curls had escaped and surrounded her head with a semblance of a dandelion. She was pressing the herbology book to her chest, and although she tried to look all snootish and posh, it was quite obvious she was having kittens.

"Oh, you are Miss Leary, the new student aren't you?" Professor Longbottom smiled to her, and she nodded. "Lovely. Since I didn't get a chance to test your knowledge before this class I'm pairing you with Mister Rivendell, he is one of my most knowledgeable students, he will help you out." Thorin saw the redhead's nostrils flare. She quite obviously reckoned she didn't need any help. He felt cheesed off as well. Firstly, he was the most knowledgeable student in herbology! He was a dux, and seriously, all and all he had the best rapport with chicks. He could take jolly good care of the little ginger!

Elrond Rivendell handed her the goggles, bending in a daft bow, he was almost as tall as Professor Longbottom and only an inch shorter than Thorin, and she pulled them on. Her braid got tangled in the straps, and she twirled on one spot like a puppy chasing its tail. The Rivendell prick of course had to rush to her rescue, damn wanker, he buried his hands in her quickly unbraiding curls, and Thorin watched already familiar blush spread on her cheekbones. She flailed her arms, smacking the plant nearest to her, which gained her a cheesed off hiss, and finally the aggro was resolved. Her mad hair in a wild halo around her head, eyes magnified by the goggles, she looked like an orange pixie. He grinned, and she noticed and glared at him. He gave her a wink and concentrated on what Professor Longbottom was telling them about the purple plant, quickly forgetting about the chick.

Longbottom was Thorin's favourite professor, and it wasn't just for the class. He was a veteran of the Second Wizarding War, but he wasn't a ponce or po-faced or full of himself. He had a calm demeanour, chummy and even, he treated his students with respect, somehow still without fake amicability. Thorin hated the phony tude of treating them "like equals," because... well, they weren't.

What was most champion about Professor Longbottom was that he was comfortable in his own skin, and for once Thorin could relate. He knew of Longbottom's parents, of how he was weak and chubby as a sprog, and how he killed Voldemort's snake in the Battle of Hogwarts, how he became an Auror and then came back to Hogwarts to teach a subject that everyone considered too nancy for a war hero, and yet Professor Longbottom was chuffed and chill, swinging from a ladder, explaining the pollination process of fluxweed, simultaneously trying to reach a Bouncing Bulb that had escaped its crate and was currently trying for a daring escape through a roof window of the greenhouse.

Whatever everyone's opinion of Thorin was, and he couldn't bloody care less, he knew what it was like to not fit into the expectations of people around. With his grandfather as one of the prominent figures in Auror Department, his father having had a successful career in it for more than twenty years, pure blood and physically fit he was expected to follow their path. The conversation he had had with his father last year was hairy. Despite his popularity Thorin was enough of a swot to choose any career, but a healer was a shock for his dad. Good thing Thorin skipped the first explanation that popped up in his brain. "I want to save lives and shite." He had come prepared and left his dad's cabinet an hour later, knackered but chuffed. He was Durinson after all, they chose their path and never threw their brooms in.

* * *

><p>At some point of the class Professor Longbottom was walking around, looking over students' shoulders, examining their progression.<p>

"Bravo, Mister Rivendell, that is a perfectly performed deseeding!"

"The praise belongs to Miss leary, Professor," Thorin heard Rivendell's pompous voice, and rolled his eyes under the goggles. What an overbearing, self-centered twonk, typical Ravenclaw scum. "I haven't even participated."

Thorin turned his head and saw the Leary chick, a pruner in her hand, purple juice dripping from her gloved hands. There was a splash of purple on her cheek, and Professor Longbottom was studying the fruit opened on her table.

"Amazing precision, Leary. Have you performed the deseeding before?"

"No, sir, it is my first attempt." She looked adorable, her hair again in a braid, her wide red mouth stretched in a happy grin.

"Excellent job, you are clearly a natural, Leary." She thanked him and went back to her fruit. Thorin was already done with his, the same purple juice dripping from his hair, and he received an approving nod from Professor Longbottom after he had glanced at Thorin's work.

Thorin needed a shower, but watching the redhead bent over her table, a concentrated grimace on her angular clock, he also decided he needed her. Preferably with her skirt around her waist and moaning. He obviously understood it was the allure of a new toy, after all every other bint at school was familiar if not sampled. This one was odd as well, depending on how you look at her, she was either a minger or a special kind of totty, but it mattered little. She stood out, which required thorough investigation. Hands on approach, so to say.

After the class was done, Thorin had an empty period, and he cleaned up his table, gave Professor Longbottom a polite nod and sauntered to where Leary was still struggling with fitting all her tools in a box.

"Need a hand, Leary?" He aimed for a light tone, and then he saw Rivendell coming from the other side, carrying a watering can, probably to help her wash the juice off her gloves. The wanker needed to be neutralised, and Thorin silently threw a spell into the hose on the floor under Rivendell's feet, the tall plonker's attention was fully on the can. The git tripped, splashing water all over the Leary girl. She gasped, her robe was soaked, and Thorin rushed to her. He quickly picked up the tools from her hands, shoved them into the box, gave Rivendell who was mumbling apologies a judgemental butcher's, and then he wrapped his arm around Leary's shoulders softly guiding her out of the greenhouse. On the way out he saw Professor Longbottom shake his head in amusement, and he flashed him a grin. Technically he could have been penalised for the mess and putting a spell on one of his classmates, but surely, charming a bird was an excuse good enough!

* * *

><p>Outside Leary twisted out of his grip and jerked off her robe. Her pristine uniform was now wet and covered in purple splashes. There was also a stain on her cheek, and he opened his mouth to tell her that, but then he thought of wiping it himself, in a tender playful gesture, and a daft corny comment, something like 'purple is definitely your colour, love.'<p>

"What do you want, Durinson?" Her tone stopped him in his tracks. That's not how it was supposed to proceed. But he was no Puffleskein to get discouraged so easily.

"Common, Leary, give me a chance. We haven't even talked before, except that one time you snogged me at the station," he gave her a lopsided grin. She pouted. It was ace. The bottom lip looked delicious, and he made extensive plans for her mouth.

"I thought I would never see you again."

"Well, you see how jammy we are! Here I am," he spread his arms widely, as if presenting her with the best gift ever.

"Well, fine by me, as long as it has nothing to do with me," she started walking away from him, he barked a laugh and stayed behind for a mo, mostly because he really liked the view of her arse in the pleated skirt, but then he caught up with her and grabbed her upper arm.

"Common, Leary, let's chat. You don't even know me!"

"I know of you, it's more than enough." She jerked her arm out and turned to him. She was so obviously pissed off, that he gave her a predatorial look over. Blimey, she was fit. He started his pull mostly because she was new and mildly different, but it was becoming more and more interesting. He was still on the fence regarding the freckles and the lack of tits, but damn, the bum! And the legs, the legs were brill. Slender and shapely. They would look good around his waist. And yes, he'd be able to see, there was a giant mirror in the prefect's bathroom.

"And what is it that you know?" He murmured and leaned in to her face. She didn't jerk away and met his eyes directly. He was wrong, hers weren't green, the colour was odd, some barmy mixture of brown and green, and sort of fluid, reminded him of the Polyjuice they were making last year with Professor Slughorn.

"Do you honestly think you are the first underage Sebastian Valmont who wants to knob me just because I'm new and will most likely lose all interest in two months because I'll become old news?" Her tone was sarcastic, and he tore his eyes away from her sexy red mouth. Interesting, apparently she wasn't thick. He hadn't actually given her brain much thought before, he was mostly interested in other parts of her anatomy, but that was… invigorating. Challenging. Brill. She went on, "That's my twelfth school. And there is the same story every time. And this is the second period and I got asked out three times by now."

"Well, I'll be banal and join the parade," he gave her his most charming smile. Let's face it, he was a dux when it came to pulls as well. "Will you do me the honour of joining me this weekend?" The smile she gave him back was best described as venomous.

"Let me guess. Hogsmeade, Honeydukes, butterbeer, and then the Shrieking Shack?" He kept a shining smile on his face, but internally made a list of jacksies to kick. Anderson obviously, but that was a separate question that had to be addressed later, probably Rivendell, they were jolly chummy during the Herbology, he still needed to figure out the third one, but seriously, there was a clear and easily understood hierarchy when it came to pulls at schools. Prefects had the right of priority, and among them Durinson was at the top of the food chain. There were a few noses to fix apparently.

"That would be dull and unworthy of you, Leary. I know all the best places to visit, and we don't even have to leave the school. I have explored the castle enough to give you a sterling tour."

"Oh I bet," she sneered back, narrowing her eyes, "I bet some of those magical corners even have convenient sheepskin rugs to save my hands and knees." He abruptly hoped she didn't happen to know Legilimency, the images he just had in his mind wouldn't have helped his case. "I'm not interested, Durinson. Yes, I kissed you but I didn't know you then. I am less ignorant now. End of the conversation."

She started marching away, and he made the last attempt, "Seriously, Leary, one would think you are a Knarl. I offer you treats, and you trash me!"

She twirled on her heels and gave him a measuring look. It was slow and went from the toes of his shoes, up his trousers, she paused at his hips and slightly tilted her head. Her lips twitched, she moved up, her eyes once again lingering on his chest, then shoulders, and then she studied his hair. Given it was generously sprayed with the purple juice, Thorin knew it was ace. It was a family tradition to grow it out, it was going down to his shoulders, his stepmum would send him special shampoo, and apparently Leary approved. Her eyes finally met his, and she gave him a cold smile.

"Dull, Durinson. You are dull. Predictable. Have an emotional range of a teaspoon. Shagged half the school. Mamma's boy. Privileged prick. See? It took me seventeen words to summarize you. Why would I bother?" She turned around and strode towards the castle.

Thorin gritted his teeth. She needed education in how life worked, and he was willing to provide her with some. Snarky bint.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the weekend of the first week of classes, and Bilbo was on his way to the library. Going down a spiral staircase of one of the towers he noticed a couple of sixth year students intertwined like Devil's Snare in an alcove, snogging actively and enthusiastically. Asphyxiation was a jolly real danger for these two, and Bilbo cringed. He understood they were hormonal teenagers, he was mates with Thea Martin, which pretty much guaranteed any bloke being stiff twenty four seven, but surely there should have been some rules regarding PDA.

It was actually the reason why unlike his schoolmates Bilbo was on his way to the third floor instead of joining a merry motley crew on their way to Hogsmeade. The first few weeks of each year it was all drama, snogging, reuniting after summer, finding out someone shagged someone' girlfriend on holiday and so on. There were duels in the Hog's Head, barneys in the street, last year a student had to be escorted out of Tomes and Scrolls for trying to break another's student's nose over his boyfriend. Bilbo twitched his nose in annoyment.

The library was empty just as he expected, with the exception of one person sitting at a table by the window. It was the new girl, Wren Leary, her flaming hair in a messy bun on her head. He joked internally that it was like a beacon, easily noticeable from far away. There was a quill sticking out of it, while another one was scribbling something on a parchment near her left elbow. She herself was absorbed in one of five giant volumes opened in front of her, while there was a stack of at least twenty more on each side on her table. With surprise Bilbo understood she was using the Evelyn Wood method of speed reading, her hand swiping up and down pages, and judging by the movement of her eyes and the tapping of the left hand fingers on the wood she was also going through Advanced SQ3R steps. It was amazing, she wasn't muggle born, and wizards and witches normally used alternative methods, mainly the Legere Velocius spell presumably invented by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Bilbo had learnt the Wood method and SQ3R three years ago, he was still more comfortable with muggle science, and he shortly wondered whether his eyes were doing the same barmy thing when he read.

He quietly moved to one of the shelves and picked up the volume on magizoology he had planned on reading today. He tucked himself behind a table several rows away from the girl and tried concentrating on the text. It was difficult, he had to constantly remind himself to keep his eyes down. Bilbo was no idiot, he understood he was being a typical boffin, staring at a chick from afar, but he was a hormonal teenager and she was female. And new, she was new, and maybe Bilbo hadn't had much action in his life, but he had a formed and hardly flattering opinion about most of his schoolmates. She was the unknown.

* * *

><p>He had been studying the students in Hogwarts for years, and he thought the fact he was muggle born had given him a pretty objective and detached perspective on the going-ons in the school. Overall Bilbo thought they were all mental, with a small number being an exception.<p>

The first three years in school were a torture for him, he hardly noticed anything around him, mostly concerned with bouncing off spells the Slytherin Rat Pack was throwing at him and trying to avoid being dunked in the loo head first with a deft use of Wingardium Leviosa. The Rat Pack, as he called them, with Thorin Durinson as its head and his sidekicks always following him, were mostly bullying Gryffindor students, the animosity between the Houses still a tradition in school, even after all these centuries and the Second Wizarding War.

And then one day August Anderson stepped around the corner, Durinson's wand flew from his hand and before anyone could say anything the Quidditch Captain yelled _Tarantallegra!_ It was a strange choice but the view of Durinson tapdancing would forever stay one of Bilbo's favourite memories. He considered using it as his Patronus inducer but then he changed his mind. There were other memories to cherish. Fundinson and the ginger prick who were always accompanying Durinson were dealt with by Thea, and she just used her elbow and knee. Then she and Anderson pulled him out of the toilet he was suspended over. They all got detention, but one thing could be said of Thrain Durinson. He was fair. Points were taken only from Slytherin, and the Headmaster's son received double punishment, apparently his rotten nature was clear to his father even then. Bilbo then thought that his torment would stop, and it did, but Thea and Auggie didn't disappear from his life as he had assumed then. The three of them started spending most of their time together with the exception of Thea's sexcapade times and a few months last year when Auggie was actively dating a girl from Slytherin. It didn't work out, and Bilbo assumed everything would go back to normal. And then the Leary girl was invited into their compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

Bilbo didn't like change. He didn't like adventures and irregularities, he just wanted to spend time with his friends, finish school in peace, and find himself some nice comfortable job, preferably of a librarian. Bilbo loved his books, his parchments, and he would really like a comfortable armchair. Auggie would laugh and say Bilbo needed an Ageing Potion so his outside would match his inside, and although Bilbo would puff and glare at his friend, he would internally agree. Bilbo only wished the mature age would come sooner and the teen angst he had to tolerate around him every bloody day would finally be gone.

* * *

><p>At some point, he once again raised his eyes at the redhead, in a thousandth time in the last ten minutes it seemed, and he suddenly saw she was looking back. He jerked and immediately dropped his eyes into his book. He wasn't reading and was praying to all deities possible that she would go back to her reading, when he heard a delicate cough above him. He gulped loudly and slowly lifted his face.<p>

She was rocking on the heels of her feet in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back, and she wore makeup. A lot of it, there was black stuff around her eyes and bright orange lipstick. Most girls at school were compensating for the strict rules of uniform and no makeup after classes and on weekends, but hers was… crikey!

"Hi, Bilbo, I'm sorry to bother you, but I saw you… And decided to say hello," she had an even friendly tone, and Bilbo suppressed a hiccup. He had no idea how to talk to girls, even Thea would frighten him sometimes, but in the last three years he just learnt to block out her swearing and talking about sex and delegated it to Auggie to handle.

"Hello," that was all he could master, and she smiled to him. She did have an odd face, and he decided after certain consideration that she was not pretty. The mouth was very wide, and although she had a nice smile, she reminded him a bit of a lizard. The same angular face, pointy chin, high cheekbones, and strange slanted eyes. She was also very skinny, and the giant baggy sweater with a looped scarf made her look like a ten year old in her mother's clothes. Or grandmother's, since she was aiming for that bleeding annoying hipster style, with her sandshoes and skinny jeans.

"Well, I'll be studying there… But if you feel like a break, let me know, we can have tea together or chat… Or something..." Her tone was unsure, and she suddenly blushed. Bilbo had quite a different impression from her from before, and he wondered why she suddenly seemed so shy and insecure. In the train and in the classes through the week she was haughty, cold and snobbish. She was very smart and astonishingly knowledgeable, especially for someone who had no previous formal education, and she didn't miss a single chance to prove she considered most students inferior to her. She had the typical Ravenclaw attitude, she seemed to be getting along with Rivendell and Mirkwood very well, and they quite obviously had taken her under their wing. Being a new girl didn't harm her growing popularity either.

She rocked back and forth couple more times and turned around to go back to her table. She seemed to be slouching a bit, and he suddenly heard his own voice, "I can have a break now." She twirled sharply and looked at him, smiling widely. She looked so happy and relieved that he suddenly felt very hard, "Do you want to go for a walk? It's nice outside." And there he thought she couldn't smile any wider! Merlin's beard, she had a big mouth.

* * *

><p>They were sitting on the grass in the yard sharing a Liquorice Wand she had bought on the Express but was apprehensive to try before.<p>

"I don't normally fancy muggle liquorice, but this is ace," her cheek was sticking out from the sweet, and he smiled to her. She was surprisingly easy to talk to. He could hardly use the hackneyed phrase that she was 'like one of the blokes,' since Auggie was the only other bloke Bilbo talked to much, and Auggie was… special, but she was nice. Maybe because she wasn't pretty, or didn't jump at him asking hundreds of questions about Auggie, which had happened before, or maybe because she was also well-read, but they spent half an hour discussing classes and how they were not certain the Hat even knew what it was doing.

"It asked me actually, where I wanted to go, you know," Wren bit another piece of the wand and chewed thoughtfully, "I said Gryffindor, because, I mean, you guys seemed ace, and I'm brave..." She threw an askew look at him, probably feeling that was boasting, but he nodded agreeing. She did feel like Gryffindor material, "I get it, I'm a swot, but you are too. I mean, no offense..." She blushed again, it seemed to happen to her a lot.

"None taken," he brushed her concern off, "I know they often doubt the Hat's choice with me… I know people often doubt me. And they're right, I often think of just finding some quiet corner and hiding there." She was listening with a serious sincere face, and he wondered again why she was so easy to talk to. "When we have those active classes, you know, like flying classes or Magical Creatures, I miss my books, and my parchments, and my armchair in the common room. See, that's where I belong. I don't do well with brooms and… hippogryphs."

"I am horrible on a broom," she suddenly said, leaning closer as if sharing a secret with him. He looked at her in shock. He didn't go to the tryouts, but of course he assumed she was on the team by now. "I am complete rubbish when it comes to Quidditch." He shortly wondered if she was taking the mickey, or maybe even just trying to comfort him with this outrageous lie, but she suddenly smiled. "I lied to Auggie when he asked if I wanted to try out. I said I had had an injury and didn't play anymore. The fact is I never even tried. I fall off brooms all the time." Bilbo stared at her not knowing what to say.

"Wow… Blimey..." Bilbo had nothing, and she giggled.

"They all think I am like my dad, but why would I be? And the first thing they say is that I would be a great Seeker, just because I'm strong and quick." She suddenly spoke in a batty voice, nasal and croaky, "Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not." She laughed at her own joke, but then choked on her laughter when she realised he wasn't joining her. "Oh, blimey, it's from a muggle film..."

"It's Master Yoda, yeah. I know," he felt that was the most bonkers thing he'd ever seen, a girl in Hogwarts impersonating a Jedi master. It was bloody surreal. "I'm muggle born."

"I once spent a term in a Septic muggle high school," she seemed to be boasting and complaining at the same time. "That was one big class of Care of Magical Creatures, believe me."

He laughed, shaking his head. She was odd. And smashing. Perhaps Bilbo didn't mind this change that much.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Leary!" Wren sped up hearing the voice behind her, but of course the prick caught up, and his long arm went around her shoulder. Wren gritted her teeth. Daft tosser, what wasn't clear in her previous answer?

She twisted from under his scorching palm on her shoulder, as if burning through her shirt and jumper, and she snarled, "What do you want, Durinson?"

Damn, he looked good, loosened tie, green and silver went well with his dark waves, tucked behind his ear, a white toothed smile, and crikey, those were amazing teeth! Everything about him was warm, solid, the muscles he shortly pressed her into, the chest, long fingers that brushed her nape when she was moving away. Wren shivered and gave him a hopefully disdainful stare.

He was alone this time, his two usual gophers were gone, the ginger, Gloin, and the scary arse hench bounder, Fundinson. She assumed he wasn't taking them with him when on a pull. She shivered again, it was an uncomfortable feeling to be in the center of his attention, in the center of any attention to be honest. Blimey, she was so brassed off! Would she ever fit anywhere?

"Just to walk with you, love," he gave her an innocent look, and then bent over her shoulder. It took all her willpower not to wince away from him. She wasn't giving him the pleasure of seeing how much he affected her. "What do you have there? Oh, Potions, lovely! Let's walk together."

He was still looking over her shoulder, and she understood he was memorizing her schedule she had on the stack of book in her hands, and she rushed ahead. He kept up of course, blood 'ell, his legs were unnaturally long. He seemed endlessly chuffed, as if running after her through the yard was his favourite pastime, and she decided to change the tactics. She dug her heels into the grass, and he pretty much slammed into her.

She really didn't need a reminder of how nice he smelled! Bugger, weren't seventeen year boys supposed to be scruffy and skanky? Given his hair was disheveled but it was more of a fit, bad-boy-don't-give-rat's-arse type of disheveled, and again, sod it, it was glossy. She squeezed her eyes, chasing away the thought of how it could feel to push her fingers in the dark, luscious, orgasmic waves. Wanker, wanker, wanker, he was a wanker, she reminded herself.

Last night she was studying in the common room, and a sixth year student she hadn't met before came up to her and decided to "warn her against unwise sexual choices." Bookish words and convoluted Grammar of her new classmates were among Wren's most favourite things these days, she finally felt like she was speaking the same language as the people around her. And then the chick proceeded with a summary of Durinson's conquests. When the list reached name number forty eight Wren asked whether these were the most distinguished pulls of Thorin Durinson and how many had been emitted, and the girl cringed her nose and told Wren these were the ones just from the last year. First term. And then she twirled on her heels and left Wren with her homework. Wren wasn't surprised of course, she knew the type, but by Merlin's beard, the bloke was a slag.

It had to be stopped and quickly. She had been in this aggro before, and, for fuck's sake, not once, and she had three trusted ways to solve this problem. Approach number one, appeal to humanity. It rarely worked but got her out of trouble once. There had always been a Casanova, in every school she was unlucky to end up in, and she had always been approached. She knew she was far from a totty, but the new girl thing was an unfortunately efficient pain in the arse!

"Listen, Thorin," she kept her tone soft, wrapping her voice around his name warmly, industriously ignoring how great it tasted on her lips, and balancing her books on one arm, she brushed the second hand on his forearm. The gesture was friendly but not romantic, she had practised. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Blimey, of course, what's up, love?' His face grew very much concerned, the thick black eyebrows twitched, the line of lips soft. Fucking fucking fuck, she so much wished she hadn't been the most massive idiot in the world and hadn't kissed him then on the Station. Now she knew what he tasted like. But on the other hand, she did have an IQ of 165, she did know how little she could trust him and his bloody cerulean eyes at the moment.

"Listen, it's hard enough to be a new chick, you know. And it's Hogwarts, I've never been in an ace school like this before. And I really, really want to fit in, and honestly, I just want to concentrate on my classes. And I have a growing suspicion you want to add me to your sexual victories list." One eyebrow cocked higher, and his lips slightly opened. Oh, didn't expect that, you git? "Can I please ask you to scale it down a bit? Please? Just let me go to my classes..." She kept her face innocent and eyes wide open.

He straightened up, and then he just had to lick his lips! "Well, Leary, honesty for honesty..." He dropped his eyes to the ground and pushed his hands into his trousers pockets. He did look adorable, and the muscles on his upper arms bulged under the white uniform shirt. Seriously, he was large, and no one was supposed to have these muscles at seventeen! Bloody hell! If only she were dimmer, she'd think it was unintentional, but alas, she was not daft. He quite obviously knew his strong features and was shamelessly abusing them. "Maybe I don't want to scale it down, maybe..." He took a small step closer and his rock hard stomach bumped into her hand, which was supporting her books. He was now looking down at her, and she had to drop her head back to meet his eyes. The colour was blinding, so bright, and they were burning. "Maybe it's not about a victory this time..." His voice dropped, it was criminally low for a seventeen year old twonk. Now he was quite obviously leaning, his eyes on her lips, and she went into phase two.

She started laughing loudly. "Seriously? Does anyone ever fall for this shite?" Her venomous tone, and she had perfected it over the years, had stopped him in his tracks. His face was still too close for her comfort, but for fuck sake, at least his lashes stopped fluttering! How was he doing it? Was he practising in front of a mirror? She knew he was a poxy wanker, and still her hands went calmly and her bloody heart was drumming in her ears. Fucking fuck.

"Listen, Durinson, so you know, nothing you can say or do can convince me to A, go out with you, B, to shag you, C, to say that I shagged you. You are the local stud, I get it. I also think you are a skanky wanker and only a bint with no self-respect would let you get your end away with her, OK?"

He stepped away from her, and she saw knots of muscles shift on his jaw. He was pissed off, but she needed to protect herself, she couldn't let him get under her skin, so she went on. She decided phase three might as well be implemented right away.

"Also, I am aware that I'm a bit of a munter, I do own a mirror and I don't lie to myself. The only reason someone like you would be interested in someone like me is for a quick bonk and later for a long and colourful account of it to your mates. More so," she lifted her chin and glared at him, "I have already been in a situation like this, and I assure you I am aware of what will be said to your mates. You'll tell them I am skinny and have no tits, that you had nothing to hold on to, and that I am pale as a ghost. Some like to add snidey comments on the wide mouth, mental hair, and the freckles, I have them on my shoulders too, but the skinny arse is the most popular. So please, just please, save us all the trouble. And sod off."

She turned around and started walking away from him. He didn't follow, and she didn't look back, mostly because she didn't want him to see the tears.

* * *

><p>She was sitting on a loo, wiping tears running down her cheeks, and asking herself, why would she feel so gutted? The situation was literally identical to the previous three schools. Wren wiped her nose and sniffed. Curse her intellect, she knew why it hurt so much.<p>

It was because of the King's Cross. She thought she'd never see him again, and for the first time in her life she did something impulsive. And she liked him! She liked him so much then! Sometimes she would think back at it, and it's like it was a different person. She could almost forget that the same person was now her classmate, and for a second she'd imagine that she still had that one romantic adventure in her life to look back at and feel all soppy and mushy about. He was sitting in front of her, and she was internally squeeing like a daft cow. He was gorgeous but it wasn't just the looks, although bloody hell, everything about him made her want to snog a hell of him! The elongated glacial eyes, dark thick lashes, long nose, the lips…

She picked the Potions book from her lap and gave herself a sensitive smack to the forehead. Not thinking about the lips, Leary, pull yourself together, thick bint! Soft, warm, his breath smelling of coffee and peppermint, her nose pressed to his warm cheek, and it lasted three seconds, and was the best snog of her life! Bloody hell, she repeated the smack and yiked. It hurt.

She commanded herself to stop thinking about it, and she immediately repeated the same moronic thing that had been whirring in her mind for the past week and a half. He had seemed different then. And she gritted her teeth. He hadn't been any different, they had just talked for five minutes, that's all. Had the circumstances been any different, had she given him her number, had they gone to different schools, they would have ended up in the same place. Him trying to bonk her and her crying over it. Or worse so, him succeeding and her crying over him never calling her again. At least this way she had had the advantage of knowing his reputation and saving herself some dignity. She wiped her nose again and dragged her sorry arse out of the bathroom. They had the next class together but he didn't turn his head towards her a single time. Or at least she thought so, since she kept her eyes on her cauldron and on her book. And also, maybe he wouldn't noticed how red and puffy her eyes were.

* * *

><p>Professor Slughorn, and seriously, he must have been around two hundred by now, was still sharp and methodical, and she sighed. Potions were quite obviously not her cup of tea. She liked classes that combined physical agility, and she had plenty of that, with scientific application of intellect. Potions were claimed to be all about precision and measurements, but oddly enough she failed, and Thorington succeeded. And he wasn't even looking in his book. At the previous class he once again was the best, and when asked he nonchalantly confessed he disregarded a third of the recipe and "followed his guts." Slytherin got additional points, and he was smiling smugly, knobhead. Wren couldn't understand it. Why would they need a recipe then if improvising and following their bloody intuition was the way?! And why not put whatever that blinking intuition was supposed to tell them into the recipe to start with?!<p>

Transfiguration was her forte, and after the very first class Wren understood she had found her mentor. Professor McGonagall, who after several years of being the Headmistress of the school had returned to teaching, asked Wren to stay after the class and come to her office. Wren met Thea Martin's worried eyes and smiled to her. Unlike the Gryffindor girl Wren knew she wasn't being penalised. She was to be asked to show the full extent of her abilities, and Wren was looking forward to it. She really wanted to impress the Minerva McGonagall. And she couldn't say she hadn't. She now had additional private classes with her personal hero and with each time growing out silky fur and perked up triangle ears was easier and easier.


	6. Chapter 6

The weekend after, Thorin was sitting the Three Broomsticks drinking his second butterbeer, lazily listening to his mates chin wagging. Muggleborn, the three brothers still retained their old interests, and currently Bifur's nose was once again buried in his iPad, Bombur and Bofur were arguing about something called Brandy snaps, and Thorin turned to Dwalin and was just going to suggest they move elsewhere, when a group of sixth year chicks came in the inn. They were mostly from Hufflepuff, but he could see a couple Ravenclaws and one Gryffindor chick. He hadn't had a chance to chat her up before, and he was in a mood for a pull now. Recently he felt oddly dischuffed, and to get rid of the nagging feeling he quickly rose on his feet and swaggered towards her. She was blonde and plump, too much pink and sparkles on her clothes, but lively and she had nice legs.

"Wotcher," he stopped behind her, and she twirled around. Once she recognised him, her lips puckered and she battered her lashes. Dull, he thought, and immediately squished the thought down. He hadn't won yet, "Millicenta, right?"

From the corner of his eye he saw the chick's friend place her hand on the blonde's forearm, probably warning her from daft choices such as Thorin Durinson, but judging by the light blush on the blonde's cheeks and suddenly heaving chest, her mate was too late.

"And you are Thorin Durinson," she had a nice voice, he thought to himself, all purry and melodic, and he gave her a charming smile. She also didn't look like she was looking for anything soppy or serious, and he leaned in to her eyes.

"Can I buy you a beer, love?" Her perfume was annoying though, and when she smiled and nodded in return he felt irritated. That was too easy.

He picked up two tankards from the counter, and she walked to a secluded table in the corner. He was following her, she was quite obviously swaying her hips, and they slid on the bench. The following was rather predictable. She took a sip and licked the foam off her lips, she thought she was being cheeky and fit, he thought that he still had one scroll of homework and this needed to be wrapped up quickly. He leaned in to her ear and quickly kissed the lobe. A blonde curl brushed his nose, and he felt irked. She sighed deeply, and his eyes fell in her cleavage. She had nice skin, she had opened two top buttons on her blouse while she was walking in front of him and thought he didn't notice. He did, and once again, dull.

The kiss on the ear was a bold move, he didn't even say anything to her, most required a bit of cajoling, but he was in no mood for playing. There was an equal chance she'd go for it, she was breathing rather heavily, or she could tell him to sod off. She didn't, and he shifted his lips to her neck. He felt goosebumps run on her skin, and he smirked into it.

"You are moving fast, aren't you?" Her voice was breathy, and he shortly wondered if he needed to back off a bit, and maybe make a couple more soppy gestures. He could pick up her hand and intertwine their fingers, and say something, he had an endless arsenal of lines, but something was pushing him, he was almost angry and kept on testing her boundaries. He placed his hand on her knee and rubbed the skin with his thumb. She had a very short skirt on.

"Do you want me to slow down?" He murmured into her skin, and with the next kiss he slightly opened his mouth and brushed his tongue on her skin. She jerked, but didn't move away.

"No," her voice was trembling slightly, and he just couldn't understand where this buzzing in the back of his head was coming from. He liked the chase, the seduction part, it was exciting, especially if it took some effort, it was like chess.

He knew everyone thought he was an ultimate tosser and looked down at everybody. He did, but for quite different reasons than everyone reckoned. It wasn't his bloodline, his money or his looks that he thought were making him alpha. It was his brain, and besides genetics he was proud to say it took him a lot of hard work to get where he was now. People were dimwits, most of them, and it wasn't his fault they seemed like gormless toddlers to him. The same went to the chicks, it wasn't that he thought women had less brains or abilities than men, but if they agreed to be with him and allowed him do what he wanted, didn't it make them… well, thick? He never lied to them, it was his rule, he would always say it as it was. No phony lovey dovey, no promises. He could also take a refusal, 'no' means 'no' after all.

This last thought scraped at his mind unpleasantly, while his lips continues caressing the blonde's neck and ear. _So please, just please, save us all the trouble. And just sod off. _That was a refusal, and he sodded off. Happy, Leary? He froze, his nose pressed to the clavicle of the chick sitting next to him. Was he actually just talking to the ginger bint in his head?! He slightly moved away and looked at the girl sitting near him. Or more precisely, almost lying on him. Whether she was faking all this breathless faintness, or she was actually melting into a puddle here, she was pressed into him, her hand on his chest, and another one interestingly enough on his thigh. That was hard to misinterpret.

And just to shut the nagging in his brain he slowly got up and stretched his hand to the blonde sitting near by.

* * *

><p>The back alley was empty and dark, and he quickly conjured a concealment charm and several silencing charms, and then he pressed the blonde into the wall and caught her mouth. She squeaked, and her hands pressed into his chest. He knew that moment, many of them would start doubting their own decision. Thorin would never use force on a chick, but he also knew this moment of doubt would pass. He snogged her for three more seconds, giving her the taste, stroking his tongue to hers, and then he shifted away from her, still caging her between his arms, and murmured, "We can stop if you want." He kept his voice soft and raspy and gave her an intense stare into the eyes. For a second he thought she'd run. The words of the bloody ginger echoed in his ears again, <em>I also think you are a skanky wanker and only a bint with no self-respect would let you get your end away with her, OK? <em>And then the blonde grabbed his tee on his chest and pulled him into a heated snog. Quod erat demonstrandum.

It took around three minutes for his fly to get unzipped, he bunched up her skirt, and then he pulled his wand from the back pocket and quickly murmured _Obice Amoris, _the standard protection spell. The daft blonde giggled, and he gritted his teeth. She seemed to do everything possible to arse up the mood. Yeah, he knew that apparently the spell tickled their fannies, but somehow they all felt it would be adorable to snigger daftly when it happened. He placed the second half of the spell around his cock, grabbed one of her legs and hiked it up, opening her wide at the same time. She moaned loudly and completely insincerely and he pondered placing _Silencio _on her. He did have libido, and would unlikely go floppy, but seriously do they all have to behave like they were Sophie Dee?

The shag wasn't that bad, she was tight and apparently also knew what she was doing. At some point she pulled herself up, her arms around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He was tall and a Keeper in his Quidditch team, they were working out regularly with his mates, so shagging a rather small chick against a wall was no aggro. All and all, except for the bleeding annoying exaggerated moaning she was 6.5 out of 10. Not rad, but what could one expect from a hurried bonk in the back alley? He came with a groan and let her slide down on the ground. She hissed, her back probably scraped at the wall, and he pressed his forehead to the cold stone wall.

"Bloody hell, Durinson, you could've been more careful. I think you tore my tee." She was twisting trying to see her back, pulling at the hem, and he quickly zipped up his trousers. She was still grumbling, fixing her clothes, they didn't take off her knickers, just moved them aside, and he thought in irritation that there seemed to be some unpleasant rubbing on the side of his cock.

"So, that's it then?" She asked in a chavvy voice, pressing her fists into her hips. He straightened up and looked at her from under a lifted brow. What exactly was she expecting? Flowers and chocolates? "Wanker," she threw at him and went back into the inn. He quickly took down the spells and leaned his back to the wall. He thought he felt a migraine coming, there was some manky pressure in his temples. He could see the street between the building he was leaning on and the next one, and he thought he saw several familiar faces.

He momentarily wondered if the blonde went back to the inn and thought that probably not. Her mates saw where and with whom she left. He gave it a thought and decided he needed one more butterbeer. He sighed and followed the chick. Millicenta, was it? Who bloody cared.

* * *

><p>Leary and Anderson were sitting at the same table he had been occupying with the blonde just a few minutes earlier. The damn butterbeer mugs were in front of them, and she was quietly laughing at something he told her. There was dark pink lipstick on her wide mouth, and the Anderson prick was leaning back, keeping a bloody respectful distance between their bodies, and then she leaned in and picked up the pendant the tosser had on a leather string around his neck. She lowered her face to see it better, her glasses for some daft reason were on the table between the mugs, and her mad curls scattered on Anderson's chest. He was explaining something about it, their hands met on the pendant, and Thorin dropped on his chair, his back to them. Of course he wasn't going to watch this, who cared what they were doing. He met Dwalin's eyes, and the Slytherin Beater smirked to Thorin darkly.<p>

"We can always just bodge up couple of his ribs," from Dwalin's point of view such offer was probably generous, but Thorin was still riding the wave after the shag, his muscles felt tired, and he snarled to his mate. He didn't care! Why would he care? She was a minger and told him clearly she didn't fancy copping off with him. To be precise she said she wanted to concentrate on her classes, but he guessed Anderson wasn't that much of a distraction. That for some reason improved his mood. It made sense, what could Anderson even offer to her?

Her sudden loud laughter rolled through the room, and the Gryffindor Captain's voice joined in. Thorin obviously wasn't going to look, and yet he found himself turning sharply around, he saw her showing something to Anderson, her hands folded in a cup and both of the looking at something in them, their heads touching. And then she suddenly clapped her hands loudly, right in front of Anderson's long nose, and he roared with laughter. He then lunged at her and started tickling her, making her drop her head back, Thorin for no reason suddenly noticed the long delicate neck, and she started battering his hands away, laughing and wiggling.

"So, ribs?" Dwalin suggested, and Thorin whipped his head back. All four of his mates were looking at him attentively, and even Bofur looked uncomfortable.

"Stop cocking around," Thorin grumbled, "Why would I fucking care?"

"Well, you seem to," Bofur's voice was hesitant, "Since you have just conjured a snake and it's crawling towards them." Thorin jerked and looked at the floor. There was indeed a rattle snake hastily approaching the table where the redhead and the Gryffindor captain were now engaged in a lively discussion, and Thorin quickly waved his wand, getting rid of the reptile.

Without another word he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and rushed out of the inn.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Dedicated to my darling Wynni, and a tinsy morsel there for you, love! Since you liked the joke in another fic, I'm putting it in again. How puffed up am I to quote myself? O_o**

Thorin quickly walked to the castle, pushing the skanky episode from the Three Broomsticks to the back of his mind. He was still dischuffed, but he already started recollecting the spells he needed for that homework he still hadn't finished, when he realised that the castle was buzzing, all queer street and manky.

Portraits were rushing in between canvases, he saw the Grey Lady crying in the corner of the Entrance Hall, Sir Nick consoling her, and a grotty feeling clenched Thorin's stomach. Students looked pale and gutted, and he grabbed a sleeve of some first year yob.

"What's up here?" The kid stared at him with wide open eyes, apparently never previously having been addressed by a seventh year student, to say nothing of a Durinson, and Thorin gave him a proper shake to put him noggin right. "Well?"

"A girl… A Ravenclaw girl… She jumped out of the tower, everyone was away... And she..." The plonker was still staring at him, but Thorin already released him and walked towards the crowd.

He quickly noticed a few familiar faces of the people from the Ministry, his father was towering above a small group of Ravenclaw students, girls were crying, Thorin saw Rivendell's blanched face.

"Thorin," his grandfather's voice made Thorin turn sharply. Thror Durinson, in his usual dark robe, long beard neatly brushed, stretched his hand, and Thorin shook it.

"Grandfather," Thorin felt uncomfortable under his grandad's one-eyed stare, "Is it true? Did someone…?"

"Your father will make an announcement before all school, but most unfortunate… Most unfortunate… And a colleague's daughter no less..." Thror shook his head solemnly, his bushy grey hair in a long thick ponytail, clasped with the family crest bearing ring, and left towards several Ministry workers standing by the window.

Thorin stood for a while more, watching Professor Flitwick, who was rubbing his hands shakily, Professor McGonagall telling him something in a quiet voice, her thin lips pursed in a distressed line from time to time, and then Thorin met his father's eyes over the heads of the students. Thrain's bright eyes roamed his son's face, and Thorin suddenly remembered that one time when he was seven and tried to ride his Dad's broom in the attic of their mansion. At the moment the same mixture of worry and apprehension could be seen in Thrain's eyes, and then he nodded to his son solemnly.

Students were ushered to go to their common rooms and dormitories, and Thorin returned to the Slytherin Dungeon with a few familiar students. Everyone was havering in hushed voices, some were greedily discussing details, some were whispering gossip, a girl was quietly crying in the corner. Gloin and Dwalin returned from the village, the B Brothers apparently stayed behind to get some quills, and Thorin dropped on a sofa.

"So what did your granddad say?" Some sixth year student came up to him, and Thorin gave him a heavy butcher's. Some wankers apparently were forgetting subordination! "Common, Durinson, he talked to you. Did he say anything?"

"Sod off, Greengrass," Dwalin snarled, and the student quickly fucked off. Fundinson turned to Thorin, "Alright, mate?" Thorin realised he had been staring at the opposite wall for quite a while. he shook off the grotty stupour and jerked his chin up.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you knew her," Gloin mumbled, his mouth full of biscuits he was gobbling in a tall armchair to Thorin's right. "You know, your usual way. A brunette, small one, you knobbed her last year. Around Christmas time."

"What?" Thorin gave the ginger an disbelieving look. And then he realised in all this aggro he hadn't asked for the name of the girl.

"Entwistle, Susan, her name was, everyone says so. That wee," Gloin gestured around his shoulder with a biscuit, "Got pissed legless at the Christmas party, chatted you up, do you not remember?" Gloin shook his head, and suddenly Thorin felt like he was bloody suffocating, as if sick was rising, and he jerked his tie. He rushed out of the common room, ignoring Gloin's 'we are s'posed to stay in the rooms.'

* * *

><p>He returned to his senses near the Herbology Store, the storage room with herbology equipment he had a key for as a prefect and the dux in the Herbology class. He rushed in and sat on one of the empty toppled crates dropping his head into his hands.<p>

He remembered the girl, vaguely though, she was titchy, the hair was soft, he couldn't recall anything else. He apparently shagged her, but they were all in blur after a while, after all he didn't spend that much time with any of them. This one he remembered from classes, she was good at Charms, like many Ravenclaws.

In the common room he had just overheard the gossip that she had left a note. Something about not managing her classes, and the pressure from parents. No one had mentioned his name, and why would they? He wasn't the first, and of course wasn't the last. Had she even remembered what happened at the party? He didn't.

Could he have noticed anything? The question bounced in his head, and he gritted his teeth. It was bloody mental. He wasn't her friend, he wasn't her boyfriend, it wasn't his job! When he was a healer, he'd have patients, he'd be able to help them, the chick wasn't his responsibility! He had nothing to feel guilty about!

He leaned back onto the wall, dropped the head back, and then banged it to the wall, and then again. It was just a bodged up day, it was woolly from the start, nothing was wrong. Someone died, it was bleeding sad, but otherwise it was a day like any other. Another weekend in Hogsmeade, another pull, another shag. Everything was the same.

It just hurt, and he repeated the same thing he kept on saying to himself so bloody often. Sometimes living hurt. Everything seemed harsh, everything moved fast. He exhaled sharply and got up.

He stood for a few minutes, staring at the shears and pots and not seeing them. Something felt wrong, but he just couldn't fucking put his finger on it. He needed to go back and couldn't. There was no choice, not for him, he had to saunter back and be the bloody King of Slytherin he knew they called him behind his back, but sometimes it felt like his head would explode. He swore loudly and kicked the nearest box. It didn't bring any release, and he exhaled. He was behaving like a mooncalf, boggling his eyes and running around in hysterics, it had to stop. He gave himself a mental slap and dragged his sorry arse back to the common room.

* * *

><p>After dinner his father got up from his seat at the High Table and made a short speech. In a few formal words he informed the students of 'the tragedy that took place in the school, when one of the students decided to take her own life,' no details were provided, but a few announcements were made. Firstly, healers were to be brought to school to evaluate students' mental health. The news was met by quiet whispering and murmuring between students, and alarmed looks exchanged between Professors. Thorin noticed that Professor Flitwick was absent, while the rest seemed jolly uncomfortable.<p>

The second announcement was met with much more dramatic reaction, the points systems was to be abandoned for this year, as according to the Headmaster it 'seemed to impose unhealthy strain on students and promote hostility between Houses.' Thorin shortly wondered whether something was said in the girl's note that caused these changes. Most of the students seemed properly dischuffed by the news, competitiveness between the Houses a long standing tradition, but Thrain cleared his throat and everyone shut their gobs.

And thirdly, after the evaluation was to be completed by the healers, classes as well as extra curriculum activities were to be reorganised. The speech was short and to the point, and Thorin caught a few looks at himself. How would he bloody know what those changes were? He kept his face cold and detached, and then he caught the Leary chick's eyes at himself. She looked totally gutted, and he wondered if she had been mates with the Entwistle girl. Leary quickly dropped her eyes into her plate, her food hardly touched. No one seemed to eat much to be honest, except for Gloin who seemed to never lose his blinking appetite.

Thorin glared at the ginger in disgust, Gloin was finishing the third slice of meatpie, and Bofur whispered, "Nice to see we are all affected by the tragedy, mate." Gloin shrugged, and Thorin turned away from him. That was the healthy attitude, and Thorin felt he was being bonkers. Why couldn't he bloody chill down?

* * *

><p>The next day it was a Quidditch practice, and Thorin assume they would cancel it, but there he was on the pitch, pulling on his helmet. That was the first practice since the start of the year, and he couldn't wait to get on his broom. He was competitive, and besides there was no distraction more effective than a Quaffle in the bollocks.<p>

"Thorin, Thorin!" He saw his small nephews waving madly from the stands, and he flew down to them, since the rest of the team was still warming up. Kili and Fili were grinning from ear to ear, jumping like Bouncing Bulbs. That was their first year, and he assumed they were allowed to come only because they were his kin. Sprogs weren't allowed at the practices.

"What are you two wallies doing here?" He ruffled Kili's dark curls. Technically Fili was a year older, but Thorin's sister let him stay home a year longer so he could go to Hogwarts with his brother. Thorin thought she was bonkers, they were already like conjoined twins, way to molly-coddle the weans.

"Grandda told us we can watch with him," Kili's smile was blinding, and Fili nodded decisively.

"With him?" Thorin didn't notice Thrain around but then he saw him walking up the stairs. He tensed, Thrain had never dropped by before, and then Fili pulled Thorin's sleeve.

"When I grow up I'll be the Keeper like you, I already have the muscles!" He tensed his titchy arms, honestly speaking nothing bulging under his tee, and Thorin patted his head.

"You have the Durinson build, bairn, you'll be an ace Keeper." One could charge batteries from the smile that shone on Fili's clock. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, father?" Thorin met Thrain's eyes, frowning and clenching the broom. He was suspended in the air in front of the stand, and still he felt as if he were looking up from somewhere at the level of his father's knees.

"If you, lads, don't mind, I'll watch you train today. I haven't seen any practices for years, just wanted to remember the feeling." At his time Thrain was a Beater but had never been especially good. Thorin shortly wondered what it was all about but then he got called to join the others. He waved to the weans, they cheered enthusiastically, and he swooshed to the hoops. Thorin wasn't dozy, it was all very woolly, and that gave him collywobbles, as his sister loved to say.

* * *

><p>At dinner that day he was poking at his nosh, when he noticed Thea Martin come up to the Leary chick and under Thea's demonic stare, and blimey, the chick could be terrifying for wimps, a few Ravenclaw students previously chin wagging with Leary disappeared as if having Apparated away. Leary was still riding the wave from her new girl status, peeps would gather around her, asking questions, although yesterday's events scaled the enthusiasm down a bit. Still, the birds Thea scared off had been quite obviously harassing Leary for details of her life. Apparently she had switched around dozen schools by now, had seen almost every country possible, and judging by grabbing and squeals there was something special about her Tom Foolery, the chicks kept on ooh'ing and ahh'ing over her bracelets and earrings.<p>

And then he noticed how ropey she looked. She was paler than normal, as if it were bloody possible, bright purple shadows under her eyes, and the plate in front of her was empty and clean. She was fidgeting with her glass, and the Martin chick patted her shoulder and was telling her something, obviously cooing at her, while Wren was nodding and chewing at her bottom lip. That was a habit of hers, when she'd be concentrated or worried, she'd been in one of the states at all times to think of it.

And then she raised her eyes and caught his staring. He could drop his eyes as she did last night, and he wanted to, but bloody hell he was no bubtion to get muddled by some chick! He lifted his glass and gave her a wide smile as if saying he didn't share her po-faced tude these days. She blinked frantically several times, and suddenly it took a lot of willpower to keep up with the pretense. The gesture looked so bleeding similar to how she reacted when he came up to her at the King's Cross, the same vulnerable wide open eyes, slightly open lips, and to make matters worse, she tucked a curl behind the ear in the exactly same gesture.

And then he realised he was being a massive fucking idiot. Was he actually keeping track of her gestures?! By Merlin's pants, he needed his noggin checked! She was still staring at him, and then Martin touched her shoulder, and she turned her head away from him slowly. The Gryffindor chick picked up Wren's hand, got up and decisively marched from the hall, pulling the redhead after her. Leary was following passively.

Adding two to two and getting four, Thorin quickly looked at the Gryffindor table and found the Quidditch Captain. And surely enough, that wanker Anderson was sitting eyes into his empty plate, unblinking stare and gormy dozy facial expression. That's the face of a bloke who had been dumped cruelly and unexpectedly. Interesting… Yesterday they were getting off in the inn, today it's already drama, tears and shite. Thorin suddenly felt much better, and picking up a lamb chop from the platter he smirked. She could be a much better distraction than Quidditch, and after all nothing made a chick more slaggish than a nice period of rebound. One more try couldn't harm.


	8. Chapter 8

Healers and several Ministry employees arrived the next day. Student were being brought to the offices of the House Heads, and careful conversations were held with them. Thea had little interest in it, it was obvious they were trying to figure out if any more of them felt like ending themselves in, and as much as Thea sympathized that Entwistle chick, she was hardly worried for her own mental health. She was called into Professor McGonagall's office and asked to take some tests with crystal balls, answer carefully phrased questions and describe her experience as a Hogwarts student. Judging by how quickly she was let out of the office, she had little to worry about.

What she was dischuffed about was the dynamics in her matchmaking project. Auggie was sluggish, Leary was resistant. The bloke was clearly smitten, from the start he just couldn't shut his gob about her, Thea had to listen to him babble about how unique she was, how interesting, the experience, the eyes, the mouth, yada yada yada, and now when it came to acting on it, Auggie was like a Streeler, he just sat there and bloody moped. The Leary chick went out with him and then broke it off. Apparently she poured on his head all that poppycock about being in different Houses, and how hard it would be, and shite. That Thea could understand, but only that much. Auggie was worth the aggro.

Then the whole barney with the Ravenclaw chick happened, and the Leary girl was suddenly gutted, all off-colour and bleak, and of course Thea jumped at the opportunity and made sure Auggie was there to console her. Although Wren tried to convince Thea that she hadn't even known the jumper girl, but still it was obvious she needed some sugar to cheer up. Auggie delivered, he was a sensitive boy, and they could be seen in halls sitting close to each other and talking quietly. Thea assumed the game was on and concentrated on Mirkwood bloke. He was dodging her hints, and she doubled her efforts. She needed that sweet piece of arse, and soon. Damn his blue eyes and endless legs!

* * *

><p>Two weeks later she was studying in the common room, when Bilbo as much as fell into it, panting and boggling his eyes.<p>

"It's her! Have you seen her?! They asked her to come, she is in McGonagall's office right now! Herself! In the office!" He rushed to Thea and grabbed her hand. The ink spilled on Thea's parchment, and she prepared to unleash the gob when Auggie rushed in as well, with the same barmy facial expression.

"You are not going to believe who is in McGonagall's office at the moment!" Auggie was shining like a new Galleon, but Thea wasn't going to give them the pleasure of playing bloody riddles with her, so she simply lifted one brow and waited. Bilbo could never keep the theatrical pause.

"Hermione Granger! The Hermione Granger!" Auggie nodded confirming, his eyes twice the usual size. Wow! Thea dropped her quill and stared at the boys with half open mouth.

"You are taking the piss! No way!"

"Yes way!" Auggie dropped on the sofa near her. "I saw her entering the castle myself."

"O. M. G. What was she wearing?" Thea grabbed Anderson's sleeve and glared into his eyes. If he dared to give her the usual bloke's poppycock of 'I didn't notice,' she was going to bite his head off.

"A suit. Pants suit. Light grey, and heels. Hair in a bun. Really fit." Auggie's face grew dreamy, "Really, really fit."

"Yeah..." Bilbo confirmed from his favourite armchair with a deep sigh. Thea jumped up on her feet and rushed out of the common room. She had to see her, the Hermione Granger, the idol, the goddess! The hero of the war and the woman who once and for all proved that one didn't need a cock to have balls!

* * *

><p>She did look very well, her wavy hair in an elegant but loose bun, and Thea knew how hard it was to rule down such hair better than anybody else. Her own chestnut waves demanded an hour of attention in the morning, but unlike Mrs. Granger, and yay to her for keeping her surname, who according to school legends didn't spare much time on her looks at school, Thea was very meticulous. She did share Mrs. Granger's views on women's rights and shite, but Thea would never take it as far as Wren Leary with the whole androgynous clothes and no heels policy to propagate their cause.<p>

* * *

><p>"Is it Hermione Granger?" Sudden whisper from her right made Thea jump up two feet high on the stairs landing she was hiding on to observe the visitor talking to Professor Flitwick in the Entrance hall.<p>

"Fucking hell, Leary, I almost had a heart attack. Shite..." Wren crouched and peeked through the railing with Thea. "And yes, you daft cow, it is the Hermione Granger."

"Wicked," Leary's accent became stronger, she was obviously fluttered, and Thea smiled to her.

"I know, right? Why do you think she's here?"

"She works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Susan Entwhistle's mom works there too. Susan had their photo in the dormitory. So I guess… And again apparently this is the first suicide in the school in the last fifty years, obviously the Ministry wants to know what's what..."

At that moment they saw Thrain Durinson come out of one of the passages, his son following him, and Professor Flitwick excused himself. He looked really gutted these days, he did take a lot of care of his students, Thea felt proper sorry for him.

They watched as Mrs. Granger greeted the Headmaster, smiling softly, then Durinson Junior came up to her, and to Thea's utter shock he leaned in to let her peck his cheek. He was so much taller that she still had to get up on her tip-toes, her hand brushing his other cheek, and he smiled like a giant cat. Her hand then went on his upper arm, and she rubbed it up and down. Thea looked at Leary, pointing at the spectacle below, as if asking the chick what the fucking hell that was. Leary's eyes were glued to the young Durinson, who was decorously answering the questions of Ministry's brightest and nodding politely to her.

And then he suddenly lifted his eyes and looked straight at where they were hiding. He was the only one facing the stairs, and he was looking at them over Mrs. Granger's head, but yeah, he knew exactly where they were. Thea shied back from the rails, and Leary pressed her hands over her mouth to suppress a quite obvious squeak. And then the prick had the nerve to wink at them!

* * *

><p>"Wren, love, would you come down please," Thorin Durinson's voice made them both freeze in their tracks, to be precise on their hands and knees, their arses in the air, in the middle of their slow and terrified retreat from the railing. Oh bloody hell, Thea threw a panicked look at Leary and saw her eyes giant and teeth buried into the bottom lip. Yes, definitely, that was the moment when Thea realised she had never ever in her life been that grateful to be herself! And especially for not being Wren Leary, who slowly rose on her feet, still in the darkness of the landing and made a step towards the stairs looking like under the Imperius spell. She was pale and shaking. Yeah, Thea did not envy her a bloody bit. Leary tugged at her oversized sweater, tried to smooth down her mental hair and then threw Thea a helpless look. Thea made pitiful eyes, and off Leary went.<p>

Thea watched her go down the stairs, her back straight and head set high. One thing could be said of Wren Leary, she was a tough bitch, and better than anything she knew how to gather her wits. She was terrifying in Charms and Transfiguration. Her attention would suddenly focus, eyes cold and lips set in a stern line, and poof, a goblet was a rat and the birds were flying around her head. At the same time. Looking at her now, no one would know she was bricking it.

She approached the Headmaster and Hermione Granger and shook the woman's hand, smiling politely. The Durinson prick was introducing her to both adults, and then his arm went around her shoulders. Mrs. Granger asked something, Wren answered, with one of those small smiles of hers, and everyone laughed. They chin wagged for a bit, and then Mrs. Granger patted Thorin's upper arm, cordially said her goodbyes and was off. Durinson's arm was still around Leary's shoulders when they said goodbye to his dad.

For a few seconds they stood unmoving, looking after him, something telling Thea that they were making sure they were finally alone, and then she twisted out of his grasp, and turned to face him. Wow, that was the most cheesed off expression Thea had seen on Leary's face, she looked murderous, Thea only regretted she had no snacks to accompany this show!

There was shaking a finger in front of his long nose, enraged hissing, teeth bared and eyes narrowed, she totally looked like a pissed off moggy, or even a Kneazle, all fiery and flaming mop around her head, and then there was even a foot stomp. Durinson was watching her, all chuffed with himself, hands deep in his denim pockets, and that's when Leary upped the stakes and shoved him with both hands into his chest. He started laughing, his guffaws reaching Thea's landing, and Leary twirled on her heels and rushed away.

* * *

><p>Thea found her in the library, behind the shelf with the books on History of Magic, which meant they were required for Professor Binns' class, who was… well, dead, so no one read these books, and that's why that was where Leary had curled in a tiny ball, her knees pulled to her nose, big round tears rolling down her cheeks. Thea sighed, she wasn't good with all the soppy stuff, but she liked Wren and that picture was bloody heartbreaking.<p>

She sat down near the redhead on the floor and gave her a tissue. Leary wiped her nose and tried to get rid of the mascara and eyeliner streaks under her eyes. There was a lot of makeup on her eyes when it all started, so now she totally looked like a racoon.

"What's up, chick?" Thea bumped her shoulder into Wren's. The redhead was ace, not judgy, supportive, Thea had never before had a friend like that. Wren just took people as they were, it was rare. Most considered Thea a slag and sometimes she would hear it not even behind her back, so she was the first to appreciate the even, tolerant tude Leary had.

"He… Why would he do that? He introduced me to them..." There was a hiccup, and Leary twitched her nose in her usual habit, "I feel so humiliated..."

"Did he say you were his girlfriend?"

"What?! No!" Leary's voice was squeaky, "No, dear lord, no. But they thought so, I bet they did..." She dropped her head on her denim knees, "God, I feel so… embarrassed. Now Hermione Granger thinks I'm shagging him, or worse… That I fancy him..."

"Tough tits, Leary," Thea patted the redhead's shoulder and heard a muffled moan from her.

"His dad was looking at me so… god… Like I as an empty spot, and unworthy, and what the hell I was even doing there… And then when Mrs. Granger asked whether I was related to my dad..." A loud sob burst out of her, and she started wiping her eyes again. They were now red, and Thea felt acute sympathy. Poor bird. Thea already knew how much Leary hated to be associated with her Da. "She said her husband was a big fan… Why would he do this to me?" She lifted her blotchy face and looked at Thea as if she could bloody explain it. "I mean, all that to get into my pants! I get it, he doesn't like to back off, but… To put me through this..."

"Maybe he just really wants to get into your pants." Bloody hell, Thea thought, she was almost defending him. What was her problem?

"Why?!" Sincere disbelief showed on Wren's face, "Would you? Has he even seen me? It doesn't make any sense..." She shook her head and snuffled loudly. "It's ridiculous, he was told to fuck off before, I'm sure, I'm no different… God, why wouldn't he just leave me alone?! And to drag his dad into it… What was that?" She was getting cheesed off now, and the tears dried, "That's just arsed up! I mean did he think I'd be impressed by his connections and spread my legs for that? So he can mount my head on the wall with all of other daft cows?!"

Thea picked up Leary's hand, and the chick dropped her head on Thea's shoulder. She was sighing deeply, and Thea gently stroked her arm.

What was interesting, and Thea would never in her bloody life tell it to Wren Leary, was that Thorin Durinson was known for keeping chicks in a very separate box in his life. He once had had a more stable-ish relationships, some time in fourth year, with some pureblood bitch who was just perfect for his majesty, and even she hadn't been invited to his house although their grandfathers worked together. He broke it off quickly, once according to the gossip she started being more demanding. And surely enough he had never before would try to parade his familiarity with celebrities to impress a chick, to say nothing of introducing her to his father. And there she was, Wren Leary, her nose puffy and red, eyes miserable, mascara smeared over her odd angular face. Barmy stuff, Thea thought, barmy stuff. Not something Thea was going to say to the redhead, but perhaps she was something special in the eyes of Thorin Durinson, the manwhore and the wanker.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Darling dearreader, thank you so much for looking into it, and I just had an idea (so I'm changing this A/N). Do you think it is perhaps because they are crossovers and they show up in a different category? I got rid of crossover thing, let me know if it starts showing up, please.  
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* * *

><p>Wren turned around a corner and froze in her steps. Thorin Durinson was half sitting, half sprawled on the floor, pressing his hand to a broken lip, while Auggie stood over him, breathing heavily, his left fist still clenched.<p>

"Get the fuck up, Durinson!" Auggie yelled, and the student standing around them shuffled on their feet, though no one seemed to be willing to interfere. Wren pushed through the tossers, what was wrong with them? Wasn't someone supposed to break this dog fight? And again, they were using their fists, as opposed to their wands!

"Auggie!" Both of them whipped their heads and looked at her, Auggie's teeth bared, lips white from anger, Durinson smiling widely, wiping blood from his chin. "Are you a mentaller?" They were having a go at each other in the middle of the school!

"Stay away from it, Wren," Auggie snarled, and Durinson jumped on his feet, still grinning like a nutter with his bloodied lips.

"He is right, love, it has nothing to do with you. At least in my modest opinion," Durinson theatrically pressed his hand to his chest, and then Auggie lunged ahead again. His fist met Durinson's solar plexus, while Thorin placed a sensitive punch on his cheekbone.

"_Stupefy!_" Wren aimed between them, and their bodies flew to two sides, students scattering away from them.

"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall's voice rang over the passage, and suddenly there were just four of them left in the corridor. Wren felt all blood rush from her face. She was standing with a wand in her hand over two quietly groaning students, and she met Professor McGonagall's cold eyes. Oh fuck me, Wren thought.

"Just a small practice, Professor," Durison sat up and made a nonchalant gesture in the air with his large hand, "Leary here was showing us how it's done. She is good, isn't she?"

"You are bleeding, Durinson," Professor McGonagall's voice was tense, and Wren quickly looked at him. The spell bounced off his cheekbone apparently, a bruise was growing on it, in addition to the already swelling lip.

"Oh, no, Professor, it's from earlier. I walked into a book shelf. Clumsy beyond measure me," he got up with a groan, and Wren saw Auggie heavily stir. Durinson stepped to him and picked him up under the arm. "Common, Anderson, mate, we did get what we wanted, Wren here showed us a perfectly executed _Stupefy_, didn't she?"

Auggie nodded, pale and shell shocked, apparently he got the most of it, and Wren bit into her bottom lip. He had a shiner from the spell around his right eye, and a bruise on his cheekbone from Durinson's hobnails.

"Have you also walked into a bookshelf, Anderson?" McGonagall's tone quite obviously showed she didn't believe them a bit.

"Bedpost, Professor," Auggie swayed, and Durinson supported him.

"Hospital Wing, both of you, this very minute." They nodded and then Wren caught Durinson's eyes on her. The prick had the nerve to give her a wink before turning around and dragging Auggie after him. Wanker. "As for you, Miss Leary," fuck, fuck, fuck, "Follow me to my office, we have something to discuss."

* * *

><p>Wren rushed outside, it was bucketing, the wind was mental, and she welcomed the sheets of water slapping her to the face. She was so angry that she just didn't know what to think or do! How dared they?! How could they take that away from her?! Bloody hell, she needed that, it was what mattered! She yelled a few swearings and incoherent hollers into the sky, there wasn't anything else to do really. She wasn't going to cry, that's all she'd been doing these days. First over Durinson, then over Anderson, then the Entwistle girl, and now this! She grabbed her wand and swung it conjuring a barrel, Merlin knows why she went for a barrel, and then blasting it into shreds with a spell, and then again, and then again. She was so livid, and suddenly a column of fire burst out of her wand, and she felt even worse! She had never lost control over her magic that way! For fuck sake!<p>

"Bloody hell, lass, you are terrifying," a calm chummy voice came from behind her, and she turned on her spot. One of Durinson's skins was standing behind her, water pouring off his mental hat onto his grinning face. Seriously, what's with the barmy garb? Was that minger hat nailed to his noggin? One of the three muggleborn brothers, she remembered, Bofur? Probably Bofur. What barmy names after all… "You are properly pissed off, aren't you?" She gave him a glare, maybe he'd go. But he was still grinning to her daftly. Was he waiting for her to answer?

"I would like to be alone now," she sneered at him, hoping he'd fuck off, but he came closer and looked her over from head to toe.

"No, you don't, you want to tell me what's up," he had a nice voice and warm brown eyes, and suddenly she sank on the ground. Who cared, she was soaking already, water squelching in her keds. He sat near her. "Is it about Thorin and Anderson's punch-up, because..."

"I don't give a fuck about their punch-up," she interrupted and brushed water off her face angrily. "They might as well break each other's necks for all I care."

"It might happen," Bofur's tone was philosophical, "It's been going on for years, has nothing to do with you, so you know."

"So I have been informed," she mumbled recalling Durinson's cold smile, and then she peeked at the Bofur bloke from the corner of her eye. He had a dozy blissful expression on his clock, as if it were the best thing he could do that afternoon, just sit under pouring rain on cold ground and watch her fume. He wasn't inclined to talk apparently, and she caved in. "So what is it about then?"

"Quidditch mostly. And how Anderson is this saint in school, the good guy, the brick, Gryffindor's golden boy, and Thorin just can't stand it, and how all chicks are friends with him," Bofur scratched the back of his head and looked at Wren slightly uncertain.

Wren sighed. She guessed there was no way out of it. She had figured out a week ago, after she had broken it off for the second time with him, and Auggie readily agreed to be her mate.

"He is gay, isn't he?" Her voice was small and squeaky, and Bofur suddenly smiled widely.

"You are not that gacky, are you?" Wren barked a short laugh.

"I haven't heard that word since we moved here," she looked in Bofur's smiling eyes, and suddenly she felt so much better. She gave his shoulder a small punch, and he chuckled. "Yeah, I'm not thick, I reckon Auggie is the only one who still doesn't see it." She fidgeted with her zipper and chuckled hesitantly. "And Thea, Thea is still trying to find him a girlfriend..."

"Thorin has no barney with that though, don't get me wrong," Bofur suddenly rushed to reassure her, "None of us gives a shite about it. I mean courses to horses and such… It's his tude that drives Thorin bonkers. And there was this aggro the first year… Not my story to tell, innit?" Wren gave him an attentive stare and nodded. She was starting to see there was some backstory between the two, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She had enough of her own shite to deal with.

"So, Leary," Bofur bumped his shoulder to hers, "What got your knickers in a twist?" Wren sighed again, she had almost forgotten about it.

She didn't know Bofur that well, hell, that was their first chat to think of it, but she was so gutted and so very knackered. She knew it about herself, she would jump at any opportunity to be friends with pretty much anybody around, abandonment issues and shite, after all she never had a proper home or family, and once someone showed her a miniscule of warmth, Bob's your uncle, she'd get attached. So she'd try to stay away from any chat whatsoever, but he seemed… well, nice. And she was cold, and lonely, and at least he wasn't trying to chat her up.

"Professor McGonagall told me there were going to be changes to our schedule now..." She gritted her teeth, "They are going to 'lessen our burden' as the Ministry calls it, less classes, and apparently we are going to be encouraged to organise clubs, and there will be a knees up every Friday evening." Bofur's face lit up like a Christmas tree, which was to be expected to be honest.

"You are having me on, Leary!" Wren shook her head, and Bofur jumped up and made some strange wiggling movements with his whole body in the air. That was once again a predictable reaction. "Oh common, Leary, even you are not that much of a swot to be upset about it!"

"I am not!" Why was she defending herself? Maybe because he was a dote. As in like a puppy or a baby giraffe, overgrown and adorable. "I love knees up! I love dancing!" Bloody hell, she had been planning to keep this info to herself. He stopped his strange spasmodic triumphant boogie.

"Oh do you now?" She suddenly saw how stupid to make that confession had been. Bad, bad, Wren, shut your gob. "And are you any good?" She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to find an escape route, but then he asked, "Wait, so what were you cheesed off about?" Thank goodness for his attention span of a pixie!

"Besides other things they are going to cancel all additional study sessions anyone has, so your Thorin can say goodbye to his hours in the Hospital Wing as well as his private session with Professors Longbottom and Slughorn." Wren was aiming for a venomous tone, and then she realised what she had just said.

"Oh, Leary, nosey parker much? Learning his schedule properly, I see," Bofur's eyes were twinkling.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Wren felt her cheeks burn and she jerked her chin up, haughtily, "I don't give a shite about his schedule. I was looking for some of those myself, and Professor Longbottom mentioned that." Bofur was warmly chuckling, and it was virtually impossible to be pissed off at him. "Oh shut your gob!" Wren punched his shoulder, and he whined insincerely.

"Blimey, Leary, you are deadly. Fist like a screwdriver." She laughed, and then shivered. She finally noticed how cold and wet they both were. It was the beginning of October after all. She got up and stretched her hand to Bofur.

"Common, let's get inside. It's dinner time soon." He followed her like an overzealous puppy, and she smiled. There was something really nice about the bloke, and she shortly wondered if he had a girlfriend. Wren knew Thea wasn't much for relationships, but they would make an ace couple. Somehow she thought their temperaments would blend well.

"Earth to Leary, Earth to Leary," Bofur's jolly voice shook her out of her musings. She stuck her tongue at him, and they plodded towards the castle. It was indeed Baltic outside. What was she thinking?

At least Bofur hadn't asked what private classes she was now missing. She wasn't sure she was ready to share this with anybody yet, especially considering how it all went pear shaped now.

* * *

><p>At dinner both Durinson and Auggie were already mended, apparently the matron knew what she was doing, and Wren industriously kept on staring into her dinner, avoiding the eyes of both of them.<p>

At some point she forgot about them, when Rivendell and Mirkwood pulled her into a brill discussion of the Lockhart Charm. Wren proper liked both of them, they were cousins and although they seemed aloof and snobbish to most, she felt rather comfortable with them. Except for Rivendell asking her out on the first week, neither of them showed any interest in getting off with her, but pretty soon they learnt to appreciate her noggin, which was so refreshing that she would mostly spend time with them after classes.

Bilbo was the only other person she liked studying with, mostly because he was so quiet, and also because he turned out to be a muggle film boffin, his Da was in special effects, and even worked in one of those large New Zealand projects, and he was the only person Wren could chat about_ Breakfast Club_ and _Star Trek The Original Series_, she had a weakness for Septic muggle films.

She was leaving the hall, most of her classmates still eating, she wanted to start on her scroll faster, when suddenly someone caught her upper arm. She wasn't going to admit it even to herself, but she didn't need to look to know, she recognized the cologne and the heat as if coming off his body.

"A word, Leary?" Thorin Durinson had a very pleasant voice, and she shuddered.


	10. Chapter 10

Wren felt that saying 'what do you want, Durinson?' would be bloody repetitive so she just glared at him. Considering they were still in the Great Hall full of students, and they had already started attracting attention. He was looming over her, bloody hell, the top of her head hardly reached his clavicles, and she gave him an askew look. She properly hoped it didn't look like she was making eyes at him. Fuck, he was fit, the even skin, piercing blue eyes, and that nose… She gulped under his studying look, and then he grinned widely.

"Shouldn't we find some secluded corner to chat, love? You probably don't want to do it in front of all school, not to tarnish your impeccable reputation by associating with the manwhore such as myself," his tone was sarcastic but light, as if saying that he himself cared little about his reputation.

"And leaving with you would help my case how?" She bit back, and immediately regretted even answering him. He guffawed, and she thought she should've kept her gob shut. He suddenly leaned to her ear, and if she were a cat, fur would immediately stand up at her nape.

"Would you like me to pretend to drag you out of here by force?" He purred into her ear, and his breath brushed her helix. He moved back, slowly, obviously stretching it, and she skewed her eyes. She saw the corners of his lips curve up, and then his nose brushed her cheekbone. She jolted, and she thought she heard a soft chuckle. He was playing her and doing a jolly good job. She suddenly felt livid.

"Say what you want and sod off," she sneered through her teeth, and he straightened up looking at her down his long nose. Damn his nose.

"I can help you keep your private classes with Professor McGonagall." He spoke quietly, so that the students at the nearest table, who were busy pretending to not stare at the two of them, didn't hear anything. Although they probably heard a squeak that she emitted. She clasped a hand over her mouth, grabbed his sleeve, and started dragging him out of the Hall. He was chuckling, but she didn't give a shite.

"Hold your horses, love, I know you are in anticipation..." He announced loudly in theatrical voice, and half the Hall looked at them but she didn't care.

* * *

><p>She pushed him in some closet, he was still chuckling throatily, and she closed the door behind them and pulled her wand out lighting it up between them.<p>

"What do you know, Durinson?" He was grinning, odd shadows dancing on his face, and she just realised they were pretty much squished together in a narrow space. She didn't bloody care. She lifted the wand and pretty much poked the tip of his nose, "So?"

"I know that you are taking additional classes with Professor McGonagall, and I know that tomorrow my father will make an official announcement which will pretty much conk out your little private sessions of being awesome in Transfiguration." She made sure the relief she felt didn't splash on her face. He didn't know anything.

"So will yours, with Longbottom and Slughorn, so I don't see why you look so chuffed," she hissed back at him, and he gave her one of his big cat grins.

"I'm so chuffed, my darling," he made big eyes at her, "Because I know how to keep mine. And the hours I volunteer in the Hospital Wing helping the poor and the sick," his voice was sing-song, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, you are pretty much Harry Potter of our generation, the martyr and the saint. Get to the point, Durinson!" He guffawed, and she shushed him. The last thing she needed was someone to decide to check the noises coming from this closet.

"You are a bossy little thing, aren't you?" He slightly tilted his head and gave her a predatorial look over. Whatever, he could help her keep her classes!

"Alright, what do you want in return, Durinson? I know you want something." He knew she was in his power, she could see smugness washing over him, but surely he wouldn't…

"Go out with me to Hogsmeade this weekend, a nice little date, just like the one you had with Anderson the second weekend, butterbeer and such, and on the way back I'll tell you how you and I are going to continue our academic endeavours." He was looking directly in her eyes, his lips slightly smiling, and she weighed her options in her head.

She didn't have much to lose. To withstand one date with him was no problem, he tended to grab her hand and stuff, but besides that he didn't cross any boundaries, and it's not like she was agreeing to anything more. Slag or not, he was still respectful and they would be in a public place. It's not like he would drag her in a dark back alley behind the Three Broomsticks or something.

Everyone would know, on the other hand, and most would assume that he shagged her at the end of that evening, but who cared?! What was important was her classes and consequently her career. And nothing, fucking nothing would stand in her way! If she had to bash on through everyone whispering behind her back that she was yet another daft cow to spread her legs for him, she didn't care.

"OK, I'll do it," she glared at him, "But I need you to swear to me." He smirked.

"Would you like me to swear the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Don't be a plonker, of course not. Maybe just some smaller spell, a jinxed parchment you'd sign," her mind worked quickly, and she was recollecting the spells she knew that could work, "Say, if you break your promise, you get covered in spots, or maybe your nose grows purple, or..."

"Leary," his voice was suddenly firm and assertive, and she froze with her mouth half open. He picked up her chin with his long index finger and made her look into his eyes, "You have my word that at the end of the date I'll tell you how to keep your classes." His eyes were cold and tense, and she exhaled.

"OK, if you give me your word, I accept." His face immediately lost its hard expression, and he smiled from ear to ear.

"Ace, I'll be waiting for you in the Entrance Hall at ten. Don't be late." He opened the door and disappeared. She closed it behind him deciding she didn't mind another five minutes in the dark dusty closet. Her cheeks were burning, and hands shaking. What the bloody hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

><p>The day was rainy and cold, she pulled on her oversized military jacket, the dullest grey jumper, old and faded, braided her hair, no makeup, no accessories. She agreed to go through this, but no one said she was supposed to be enjoying it. It was ten, and he was late. Students were walking by her, and with every minute she was feeling worse and worse. She suddenly clearly imagined that he wouldn't show up, just to humiliate her, just to prove his point.<p>

She saw Auggie and Thea going down the Grand Staircase, and she wanted to scream and run. She hadn't said anything to Thea about it, they hardly communicated since she broke it off with Auggie for the second time, although the bloke himself seemed rather fine with it. He gave her a wave, and she felt her cheeks and ears burn. They had broken up, she had nothing to feel guilty about!

And it's not that there was anything between her and Durinson! He wanted to parade her in front of others in Hogsmeade, fine with her, he would get yet another notch on his bedpost in the eyes of other students, she would get her classes.

"Hey, Wren, going to Hogsmeade?" Bilbo's voice shook her out of her stupour, she stood, pressing her back to the wall, hiding the lower half of her face behind the collar. Bilbo was standing in front of her, smiling sunnily, a hat with a funny yellow pompon and a long orange scarf. With every fiber of her bloody soul she suddenly wished it were him she was going to the village with, just a nice walk with a mate, talking about classes, nice and…

"Are you chatting up my date, Baggins?" Durinson's sarcastic voice came from behind Wren, and she tensed. Just as she predicted a second before he moved, his arm went around her shoulders, and she dropped her eyes to the floor. She really didn't need to see the disappointment that was surely splashing in Bilbo's eyes.

Fucker, tosser, the next thing he should have done was to run around her and pee on her so everyone knew he had claimed his stake. Wanker. Baggins mumbled something incoherent and sprinted away from them. She stepped back from the Durinson prick and threw him a cheesed off glare.

"You really didn't need to snub him like that," she realised she was shaking, her voice an enraged hiss, "Everyone will see us in the village anyroad, no need to humiliate my friends in addition of dragging me through the dirt." His eyebrows hiked up, and for a moment his face wavered. The lips set in a tense line, and he drew his thick black eyebrows together.

"Dragging you… I didn't realise that is how you see it..." His voice was quiet, and she pouted at him. If he was now trying to make it look like she had gone out with him voluntarily, he was setting himself up for a disappointment. He stood in silence for bit, but then his lips twitched and his wankerish smug expression was back, and he looped his arm, "Shall we?" She stepped closer and pushed her hand through his arm. He looked down at her with an unreadable expression.

"Where are you mitts, Leary? It's brass monkeys there." She jerked her face up and stared at him. She was indeed always cold, it's just… not something she'd expected from the wanker.

"I forgot them in the dormitory..." Why was she bloody mumbling and explaining herself? He sighed as if exasperated, and grabbed her hand in his. He intertwined their fingers, she felt every inch of skin that was pressed to his scorching palm, and pushed their clasped hands into his pocket. He was wearing a stylish Duffle coat with toggle buttons, soft, of rich dark navy blue, and the pocket was silky inside.

"Hide the other hand, Leary, we wouldn't want your extraordinary right one to fall off, do we? We can't let such talent in Charms get arsed up." He gave her a white toothed grin, and she obediently pushed the other hand into her pocket. She just needed to survive this date, she kept on repeating to herself, just one bloody date. After all he just wanted to show everyone that even this one hadn't escaped him. Whatever. She didn't care much for her reputation anyroad.

He was walking confidently, and she was shuffling after him. He kept on gently tugging at her hand, spurring her, and she was slowly getting more and more cheesed off.

"I am sorry I was late, I was getting the list from my nephews," his tone was amicable and light, and she clenched her teeth. She was not going to let him make a muggins out of her, she kept her gob shut and just walked. He suddenly laughed warmly. "Blimey, Leary, you are really nippy, aren't you?" She glared at him, and immediately scolded herself. Not looking, Wren, not looking! Bugger, he looked good. The waves were loose, thick and luscious, tucked behind his ears, a few run away curls on the sides of his face, curlier because of the manky drizzle in the air, colourful striped scarf around his neck, and his eyes were smiling. "What did the two weans do to you? You are not even going to ask what they wanted?" He was playing her like Wintringham played his lute, but she had seen his nephews. No one was hard enough to ignore the two dotes. She sighed and gave in.

"What sort of list did your nephews give you?" She made sure she sounded as cheesed off as she felt, but nothing could arse up his good mood apparently.

"Well, the sweets of course," he pulled a parchment from the other pocket, still holding her left hand firmly in the warmth of his right one, it was hot and dry, and so bloody pleasant that she considered chopping her own off, she wouldn't be able to forget this feeling, and he started reading. Damn his voice. Damn his too low for a seventeen year old git, velvet, musical voice. Fuck. "Fizzing Whizzbees, two each, Glacial Snow Flakes, package each, Crystallised Pineapple, one box, Mice Pops, three each, and what is the most interesting I am supposed to pay for these from my own pocket. There is no justice in this world!" He dramatically shook the list in the air and then pressed it to his forehead, faking deep sadness, and Wren realised she was laughing at his joke only when it was too late to take it back and her eyes met his sparkling blue ones.

Bloody hell, she was in trouble. She had properly and irrevocably cocked up.


	11. Chapter 11

"So, Leary, enlighten me, what's it like to be a child of a Quidditch celebrity?" Wren gritted her teeth. After she choked on her laughter, she kept her head low and stared under her feet. She noticed that although before he kept on pulling her after him, now that they were alone and away from the castle, he was as slow as a Streeler. He was quite obviously stretching it, and she wondered at what point she'd bloody snap and propel into Hogsmeade leaving him behind.

"What's it like to be a child of the Hogwarts Headmaster and a grandson of the best Auror in the history of the Department?" She bit back, but instead of shutting his gob and getting cheesed off he lifted one brow. Bloody fuck. That was a smooth move. She could bet her best cauldron he had trained before a mirror.

"It's shite," he smiled to her widely, and she blinked. Wow, that was honest. "And I have to tell you there is an ongoing debate between Durinson and Mirkwood families who is the best, so I would be careful with such statements around our little Thrandy if I were you. We have been at each other throats for centuries by now," he smirked, "No one even remembers how it all started, apparently there was some cursed necklace or something..." He nonchalantly waved his hand in the air.

Her left hand was still intertwined with his, in the pocket of his coat, and she suddenly wanted to pull it away. He had some barmy core temperature, he was hot, in all possible senses, and it felt… intrusive. Wren wasn't good with physical contact in general, and he was very, very… disturbing. She chewed at her bottom lip, he was slowly walking, and blimey, it was a good stride. The wide shoulders, the swing on the narrow hips, there was assurance and confidence in his movements, but bloody hell, he deserved to be smug. Damn his wide muscular torso. Damn the long legs. Damn the…

"Leary, have I lost you?" He purred into her ear, and she jumped up. He chuckled and gave her a look over. "Seriously, looks like you are having kittens," she didn't appreciate this idiom, but he couldn't know that, "Are you worried you'll enjoy today?" She sneered at him.

"Oh I'm in no danger of that." Damn his white toothed grin.

"Are you feeling like Lady Godiva being dragged through the streets of a village in ill repute and contumely?"

What now?! Now he was also educated and used bookish words? She looked at him askew and clenched her jaw. No answering him, Leary, just pretending you were deaf and mute, sitting through today, drinking one butterbeer, and imagining that no one was speculating exactly in what multiple positions he shagged you. That helped, Wren thought, as soon as she imagined the askew looks and gossip, he became twice less charming. She once overheard two chicks discussing in the library how his cock was curved, apparently slightly to his left shoulder. One of them giggled, and another sighed wistfully. Yep, not charming at all anymore. She straightened up and started marching faster.

"Hey, Leary, what's the rush? I still didn't go into the spiel of how your glorious hair is sufficiently protracted, sumptuous, and flocculent to indeed cover your enticing bareness." He was taking the mickey, but she had already snapped out of her soppy wondering whether maybe he wasn't a complete tosser.

"I just want to get it over with faster. So chivvy up!" She jerked her hand out of his pocket and his fingers and rushed ahead. Brill or not, that was the pocket and the hand of a wanker and a manwhore. Just think what he had touched with this very hand, Leary. Yep, that helped. She cringed and rubbed her palm on the side of her jacket. He noticed, but she didn't care.

* * *

><p>They entered the Three Broomsticks, and she tucked herself behind the most secluded table. Everyone would still see, but at least she wouldn't feel like the aforementioned Lady Godiva. And seriously, shouldn't he know some witch that went through the same? She had to read about Godiva in the septic high school, when did he learn about it?<p>

He was standing at the counter, chatting with Madame Rosmeta. She was famous for her participation in the Second Wizarding War, she was an older woman now, her daughter taking over the inn, but she was gorgeous, her grey hair in fit waves, and Wren shortly wondered if she'd ever be able to make her curls look so lush, sexy and put together. Probably not. Whatever Durinson was just rambling about her hair, it was a mop, put plainly. She had braided it as tightly as possible in the morning, but half of it had already escaped the plait. She jerked the hair band off and tied a ponytail in annoyance. Durinson was still taking his sweet time, and she sat back on the bench and pulled the collar of her jacket up, over her mouth and nose. It was a nervous habit of hers, it probably looked daft, but at least it gave her a wee bit of a shelter.

"Leary," Rivendell's calm voice shook her out of her musings on whether it was even possible to feel more uncomfortable.

"Hey," her voice was small, and she looked up at him. He was only maybe two inches shorter than Durinson, leaner, but no less imposing. But again she was only slightly bigger than a pixie, no bloody presence in this world whatsoever.

"Mind if I join you? And a butterbeer perhaps?" She was ready to cry. He was smiling to her warmly, obviously trying to make her comfortable. She wanted to go back, to hide in her books. People had already started losing interest in her, chicks would milk her for details of her life less and less with each day, and blokes had already realised she was adamant to not discuss her Da and his teammates. She just wanted to be left alone to study and ace her N.E.W.T.s! Was that too much to ask?

"Sorry… I'm sort of with someone here..." Rivendel lifted one brow. Hm, that was just slightly less awesome than Durinson's. "Thorin Durinson..." Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. Common, think of something! Panic, panic, panic! "He is helping me with homework… for Potions… I'm stumped… The whole Advanced Moon chart building for brewing Moon Potions… I'm at loss..." Rivendell's face was unreadable, but there was something sparkling in his eyes. Bugger.

"It is indeed tricky. Moon runes can only be read by the light of the moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written," Elrond Rivendell was studying her and it felt very, very uncomfortable, "Have you already figured out the instructions on the parchment? Those runes were written on a mid-summer's eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago." She had no bloody idea what he was talking about, she still hadn't even looked into the homework.

"And luckily enough by one of my ancestors," Durinson's merry voice came from behind Rivendell, "It was the start of the ancient year, when the last moon of Autumn and the first sun of Winter appear in the sky together. But Leary has already deciphered it, I just helped with the final translation." He was standing completely relaxed, a mug of butterbeer in each hand, and she exhaled discreetly.

"Indeed," Rivendell was luckily looking at Durinson and didn't notice the bloody forest fire flaming on her cheekbones. "Well, I'll leave you two to your academic endeavours." He gave Wren his customary small bow and left the inn. She dropped her head on the table with an audible thud.

She peeked and saw Durinson drinking his butterbeer nonchalantly. There was a bit of foam on his upper lip, and she deftly ignored it.

"Thank you," she whispered, and his eyebrows jumped up a bit.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said thank you," she straightened up on the bench, "For going with my story." He shrugged and pushed the mug towards her. She wrapped her fingers around it, warming them, and stared at the white foam. He wasn't making a small talk, and she felt increasingly annoyed. She reminded herself that he just brought her here to show her to other students, and he was succeeding. A few walked by, there were whispers and askew looks, and he was just bloody drinking his butterbeer! She threw him a derisive look, he looked so chuffed! McGonagall's classes, she needed to concentrate on those, on their way back he'd help her and she could keep her classes. It's all that mattered!

It still hurt, being treated like a trophy, or a sodding piece of meat. And again, for a second there, away from the others he reminded her of the person she met at the King's Cross. The same smile, the light playful tude, the… She firmly reminded herself, that person didn't exist. She made him up, and he later turned out to be a wanker, that's all. Happened to chicks all the time. She pulled down the sleeves of her sweater and sighed.

"Finish your butterbeer, Leary," his tone was lazy, "We still have Honeydukes and a stroll by the Shrieking Shack to go to." And that's when she snapped.

"Why are you doing this?" She sat up straighter and stared into his eyes. He still had his now empty mug pressed to his lips, and one of his eyebrows jumped up again. "I mean half of the school has seen us already, the rest will hear about it in their common rooms. You won." Her voice was gaining volume, but fuck it! Fuck it! She was getting bloody furious and was welcoming it. Sod it all! "You wanted to show them none escapes your charms, and you did. Everyone will be now discussing how you knobbed the new girl." She was almost loud, and some people in the inn were probably already staring. "I did what you wanted, can I please go now?" Her polite words probably didn't quite match the snarl she was currently wearing.

"The deal was you are going on a date with me, Leary," he carefully put the mug down and wiped the foam from his upper lip with his thumb, "The classical Hogsmeade date involves Honeydukes and an excursion to the famous Shrieking Shack, the hiding place of the war hero Sirius Black, the godfather of the very Harry Potter, and one of the members of the Marauders, as well the place of heroic death of Severus Snape, one of the most tragic figures of the era. So pick up your adorable little bum and march to the sweet shop. I have a list of things to buy, I don't have all day."

He swiftly got up, grabbed his coat and quickly walked out of the inn, without looking back to check if she was going. Of course she was. By Merlin's beard, she hated the wanker.

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><p>He was shopping, amicably chatting with the shop girl, who was shamelessly flirting with him, daft cow. Would she like to take him? Wren would gladly exchange places with her. At some point the chick leaned in and as if by accident brushed her hand to his, stretched towards some pink sugary monstrosities on the shelf, and Wren wondered whether they would even notice if she left.<p>

She gritted her teeth and continued standing in the corner ignoring the sweets and staring at the toes of her Timberlands. And then because it was getting bloody unbearable, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was in some other, much better place. There was an abandoned baseball field behind that septic school she spent a term in, she would sit on the stands, and no one would bother her. She could read her book, eat her favourite raspberries and pretend she was free, that it was her home, that she belonged. She suddenly felt a tear running down her cheek, and she hurriedly wiped it. The last thing she needed was to give him the satisfaction of seeing he managed to arse her up.

"A candy, Leary?" Durinson's voice made her quickly open her eyes. He was standing in front of her, with a bag of his purchases, and holding some sort of a sweet in front of her nose.

"I don't like chocolate," she sounded like a stroppy child. Whatever.

"It's a toffee, Wren," he smirked to her and gently tapped the candy to her nose, and since she was staring at him without as much as blinking, he pushed the candy into the pocket of her jacket and headed out. "Keep up, Leary, we still need to stand in front of the Shack for obligatory ten minutes discussing how ace Harry Potter was and you need to tell me he was nothing without Hermione Granger." The bell above the door chimed, and it closed behind him.

She pushed her hand into the pocket and pulled out the candy. Madam Borboleta Candies Ltd. Toffee and Raspberry Swirl. Two of her favourite flavours. What the bloody fuck?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: ****My darlings****, just a gentle reminder that I'm squirreling ****up to five chapters**** at a time waiting for your reviews. Yes, they are written and just sitting there crying through their abandonment issues ;) Besides being an attention craving diva, I also need your reviews to figure out if the next chapter is good, whether anything else needs explaining and which characters need to get more "screentime" :D Just so you know ;)**

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><p>"It's not shrieking," she couldn't help it, and he chuckled. "I mean, it's called a shrieking shack, and it's supposed to be the most haunted building in this hemisphere, and it's..."<p>

"Not shrieking, yeah, Leary. I get it, you are profoundly disappointed." They were standing in front of the old building, with its windows and doors boarded up, it was dirty and shabby, and she looked at him uncertainly.

"I'll be honest, I was sort of looking forward to it..." She realised her voice was gutted, but it was the Shrieking Shack!

"There have never been any ghosts in there, you do know that?" He was openly laughing now. "Just a werewolf. After the War they left it as a memorial. You can look at it, but you can't come in."

"What?!" She gave him a shocked stare, "There are no ghosts here, it's not haunted or dangerous, and we can't even come in?" He guffawed.

"Sorry, Leary."

She puffed air out and started marching away from it. He caught up with her and grabbed her upper arm firmly. She just opened her mouth to tell him to stop sodding manhandling her, when he leaned in to her face, and she choked on her words. His nose brushed hers, and he whispered, "I can get you in, if you want."

She felt a tinge of excitement, and immediately stopped herself. Wait, what? That was so woolly that it took her a few seconds to gather her wits.

"Really?" Her tone was sarcastic, but he seemingly didn't notice.

"Uh-huh, you are obviously disappointed, but you can at least see the place where Ron Weasley found out that for years he had been sleeping with a grown-up man." He wiggled his brows, and her thoughts thrashed in panic. Was it a ploy? Was that a pull? Blimey, she was tempted. So much history had taken place in that building. On the other hand, there was a big chance he'd done it with hundreds of other stupid bints who went in with him and potentially had been copped off with in the very same room where Severus Snape had met his demise. She shuddered in disgust. No way in hell.

"No thank you," she pulled her arm out of his hand, "I don't find any morbid pleasure in attending such places. I am going back to school. And you owe me something."

He gave her a long studying look and then nodded. They started walking towards the castle, in silence. At some point a group of sixth year students passed them, and a few of them looked back and started sniggering. Wren was telling herself there were just a few minutes left, she could already see the Viaduct. One of the students, a cute brunette gave her an angry butcher's, and Wren assumed that was one of her predecessors. Whatever, whatever, didn't sodding matter. She probably should have started getting used to these looks. They would stop soon as well, she tried to console herself, that would become old news too, just like she was becoming one, and she would still have her classes. So much depended on them that she could probably shag him for real if it changed anything.

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><p>Suddenly Durinson grabbed her hand and twirled her to face him. They were already in the Entrance Courtyard, and since the weather was nasty, there weren't many people in it, but there were plenty loitering in the colonnade.<p>

"OK, Leary, one snog and you are good to go," he was looking down at her, his eyes sparkling, and she winced away from him.

"What?!" She couldn't believe, surely, he didn't think…

"Well, it's a proper date, butterbeer, sweets shop, Not-So-Shrieking Shack, and now a kiss, and you are off."

She started shaking. They were in the middle of the Viaduct Courtyard, he stopped her strategically so they were right in everyone's view. He was looking at her down his long nose, his hair darker because of drizzle that it absorbed, eyes cold and mocking, he was clearly trying to wind her up, and she flared her nostrils.

She could let him. He would lean in and snog her. It would only take a few seconds, especially if she didn't move in return, and honestly why would she? And again he wasn't grotty, he probably knew what he was doing, his lips looked soft, and she could already assume they would be warm, he seemed to be constantly scorching as if there were a furnace inside of him. He would get what he wanted, she would get her classes.

And then she remembered the taste of his lips from the King's Cross, the coffee and mint, the fresh clean smell of his skin, the way his lashes fluttered, and how giddy she felt. For the first time in her life she was kissing a boy so ardently and purely, just because she thought he was wonderful, because she wanted to be impulsive, because she felt… something magical.

She clenched her jaw and stubbornly lifted her chin. Maybe he turned out to be the greatest tosser in the world, maybe he was the skankiest of them all, but she was not going to let him take that moment away from her. It was hers, the fluttering in the chest she felt, the bloody happiness, she was happy then! Even if the person she kissed never existed, even if she had to watch some wanker looking like him walk by her everyday, and even though she felt as if someone was repeatedly stabbing her heart with a fork, she wasn't going to bloody give it up!

"Fuck off, Durinson, I don't owe you this. It wasn't part of the agreement, and even if it were a real date..."

"Did Anderson get one?" He interrupted her and smirked to her darkly. OK, she was starting bricking it. Yeah, maybe he wasn't the bloody Prince Charming she imagined at the King's Cross but that was twisted even for him. Whatever his faults were, everyone would say he never forced a chick into anything. All of them went for it themselves, he was known to even ask one last time before knobbing them. She assumed that was him ensuring he wouldn't be later accused of anything, but still… Right now his face was set in harsh lines, eyes cold. He was frightening her.

"No, he didn't," she made a small step away from him, he noticed and narrowed his eyes. "He was a gentleman..."

"Well, I guess I'm not..." He interrupted her again, and then suddenly grabbed her shoulders and pressed his lips to hers. She squeaked and jerked in his hands. His fingers were painfully digging into her shoulders even through her jacket, and he stepped closer, looming over her, overpowering her, and she pressed her hands into his chest. A moronic thought whizzed through her mind that it probably looked bloody romantic from the outside, it always did in the films, he would grab her, and she would freeze in astonishment and then relax into his embrace and moan weakly.

Wren didn't feel like moaning, she felt like screaming and crying and clawing his eyes out. Tears were rising, and her throat felt choked in panic. She felt violated, forced into it, and she started pushing him away, her hands into his rock hard chest. He didn't listen, his lips shifted on hers, they were tense, and it felt so cold and violent, that she squeezed her eyes, and somehow the only thing that came to her mind was to find her wand in her pocket.

Since his mouth was still firmly pressed to hers, the _Confringo _that her mind screamed in panic, and she surely should have thought it through better, didn't come out in words so it was weak, but it still exploded between them, throwing them into the opposite directions.

Sharp pain burnt her hand and the hip that was behind the jacket pocket, in which she was clasping her wand. She rolled on her stomach, coughing and gagging, and she saw blood in the rain puddle under her body. Her head was spinning, ears ringing from the explosion and from the pain, and then she remembered about Durinson. She panicked, what had she done? She completely lost control… She looked and saw him a few feet away. She crawled to him, he was spread on the ground, looking no less of a mess than her, dirt and blood mixed on his clothes, and she whimpered.

"Thorin… Thorin..." She quickly ran her hands over him, his arms were spread wide, face pale, and she pressed her hand to his neck. There was blood on her palm, probably from a wide laceration on his thigh, and she was smearing blood on his skin, but there was pulse. She looked him over, panicking and shaking. "Thorin..." The long black lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes, disoriented and pained, and she sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I don't know how it happened… I'm so sorry..." She was sobbing, some strange high pitched buzzing in her ears. Some people were running towards them, everything swam in front of her eyes. She pressed her hands to his cheeks. "Thorin, please..."

He blinked several times and met her eyes. He then groaned coarsely and stirred, probably trying to get up, and she pressed her hand into his shoulder keeping him on the ground. Merlin knew what injuries he had sustained!

"Miss Leary!" She heard Professor McGonagall's voice coming from the main entrance, someone rushed to them, there were frightened faces everywhere, but she focused on his face, her heart was beating frantically, someone was loudly demanding to call Madame Matron, and then everything went black. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a deep bleeding bruise above his right eyebrow.

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><p>She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing. The sun was shining through the window, and she assumed it was already the next day. There was no pain, but she felt completely knackered. And then she remembered his blood on her hands and how ropey he looked, and she sharply sat up.<p>

"Please, remain in bed, Miss Leary," the matron's strict voice came from her table, "You haven't recovered yet. Your leg needs a bit more time..."

"Thorin..." Wren's throat felt like it was full of woodchips, "Thorin Durinson, the other student, how is he?"

"He had just one cut on his leg, and it had healed well, he was let go a few hours ago. You, on the other hand, have sliced through your femoral artery, good thing Mister Durinson applied the pressure on the right spot after you lost consciousness." There was pride in the matron's voice, after all Durinson was her apprentice.

Oh no, Wren felt mortified, not only she almost killed him, he also had to save her lousy life. She buried her face in her hands. The matron approached her with some tonic, and Wren obediently drank it. It tasted like troll piss, but she didn't even cringe. She felt like she had had an encounter with Dementors.

After a few hours of sleep, at least she pretended to sleep, while lying with her eyes closed hating herself, she was allowed visitors. She was really hoping no one would come, and let's face it, she didn't really have friends to worry about her.

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><p>"Bloody hell, Leary, you scared me shitless!" Thea rushed to her, and in a jiffy her arms were chocking Wren's neck. "Never, ever do this again! Auggie threatened to <em>Petrificus Totalus<em> me if I didn't stop pacing, but I literally couldn't sleep all night!" Thea plopped on the bed near Wren and gave her an attentive look. "How are you feeling, chick?"

Auggie was standing a bit to the side, smiling shyly, and Wren started bawling. They came to check on her! They had been worried! She didn't deserve that!

"Common, Aug, you are better at this!" Thea's voice was panicked, "Come, do your consoling magic!" Auggie chuckled and came up to Wren's cot. He scooted and his warm brown eyes were in front of Wren. She sniffed loudly.

"It's OK, Wren, you are OK, I know you got scared, but magic backfires all the time, that is why we are at school..." Wren hiccuped and looked at him in astonishment. They didn't seem to blame her for it. "I know it's a bit embarrassing, and in front of all school, but people will soon forget..." He comfortingly patted her hand on the blanket. "How is your leg?"

"It's fine… Madame Matron says I'll be out by tomorrow morning..." Wren wiped her nose with a tissue from a box that Thea deftly pushed under her hand. "I'm so embarrassed..."

"No wonder, to blow up a bloke after one snog!" Thea shook her head, and then clasped her hand over her mouth under Auggie's warning stare.

"What?!" Wren looked between the two of them not understanding.

"Don't worry about it now, Wren," Auggie's warm tone was comforting.

"No, no, what do you mean, blow up a bloke after one snog?" She grabbed Thea's hand and shook it, "Thea?"

"Oh Merlin's pants, I can't keep it inside!" Thea's eyes were shining, "Is he actually that good? I mean you are the best in Charms this years, and then you just lose all control and poof! You bloody exploded from one kiss! What did he do? Was there tongue? Blimey, Leary, I need details! I get it he is a stud, but one kiss!" Thea was squawking and flailing her arms, Auggie had blushed spots on his cheekbones, and Wren just couldn't believe. Was that how it looked? Was that what everyone thought? He knew though, he was there, she was fighting him, he was painfully grabbing her upper arms, so he knew she hit him with a spell. And then she remembered that he actually saved her life, and she hid behind her hands again and groaned.

"Thea, go easy on her. She is embarrassed as it is," Auggie's tone was a bit tense, and then Wren remembered that she had snogged Auggie less than three weeks ago. She dropped her hands and grabbed his sleeve.

"Auggie, it wasn't… It's not..." Her face was burning, and he smiled to her sadly.

"Seriously, Wren, don't even think about it. We tried, it didn't work out, and honestly I just prefer to be your mate. Considering dating you is apparently dangerous," he was giving her his usual radiant warm smile, and she barked a hysterical laugh, and he quickly kissed her cheek.

"But nonetheless, it's endlessly rewarding," Thorin Durinson's voice came from the door, and Wren froze. Fuck, fuck, and once again, fuck.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: See, my duckies, how useful reviews are? You ask, I deliver. You wanted to know Thorin's point of view, it's in the next chapter. You wanted to know how he knew her favourite flavours of candy and how the gossip started, it's in the chapter after next. You wanted a bit more peace and loving between them... eh... I'll do my best... :P OK, in the chapter after next :D**

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><p>He looked well, except for a still slightly red spot above the right eyebrow. He also looked very, very smug. Wren tensed on the bed, his hands were pushed deep into his denim pockets in that annoying puffed up habit of his. Thea jumped off the bed and grabbed Auggie's sleeve.<p>

"Well, it's time for us to go, but call us if anything… You know..." She threw a glare at Durinson, and Wren gulped. Wren looked at Auggie, but his eyes were dropped to the floor. Bloody lots of help they were! She really needed them to stay right now, for fuck sake. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a pathetic squeak.

Thea marched towards the door but then she stopped in front of Durinson. She was wearing her usual pumps that she prefered when she could take off the uniform, and her nose almost reached his chin.

"A hundred points to Slytherin for all this snogging proficiency," she vaguely gestured around his lips, and he smirked, "But if you make her cry one more time I'll _Depulso _your cock off. Are we clear, prick?"

"We are clear," Durinson chuckled, and she huffed some air out and headed for the door. Auggie walked by Durinson as if there were a concealment charm on him. Durinson waited for the door to close after them, then he gave a small bow to Madame Matron, who returned it benevolently, and he carefully sat on the edge of her bed. Fuck, she wanted to apparate out of here, preferably somewhere dark and quiet where she would be able to curl in a wee ball and pretend she was a Kneazle. Well, technically she wouldn't even have to pretend…

He was quiet, just studying her, quite obviously trying to wind her up and make her talk. Prick. Well, the prick she had almost killed. She tried to remind herself that it was his fault, he pretty much assaulted her, but then she remembered the words of a wise man, "With great power comes great responsibility," and although she knew it was Franklin she preferred Uncle Ben after all. She should have controlled herself better.

She dropped her eyes on the hands she had clasped on her lap and whispered, "I'm sorry..." He was quiet, and she just couldn't bloody lift her eyes. Her cheeks were burning, and tears were stinging her eyes.

"You have apologised already, in the yard, while shamelessly groping my unconscious body," his tone was teasing, and she peeked at him. He was grinning impishly, and she blinked frantically. Let's face it, somewhere deep inside she was expecting an apology in return. What a tosser… But then again, he saved her life.

"And thank you… for stopping the bleeding… Madame Matron said I could have died..." She was once again talking to her blanket covered knees, no sodding way she was going to look at him.

She felt him move, and before she managed to shy away he picked her chin up with his index finger and made her meet his eyes. "Apology accepted, Leary. Let's say we are even. You blew me up, I _Vulnera Sanentur_'ed your fit leg." She was going to say that wasn't what happened, but then she stopped in her tracks.

"_Vulnera Sanentur_?! That a very advanced spell!"

"I am a very advanced wizard," he purred, still keeping his finger under her chin, and she might have been wrong but it felt as if he was starting to gently stroke the underside of her jaw with the pulp of it. She was shaking, his face was very close, and then something conked out in her noggin, and she lunged ahead and pressed her lips to his. She got so scared in the yard! And he was so pale! And he could perform _Vulnera Sanentur_! And… Her head filled up with some sweet fog, and she wasn't thinking anything anymore.

His lips were indeed soft and warm, but nowhere near what she imagined. Or assumed based on the previous manky experience. He was tender, but skillful, he closed his eyes, while she cheated and peeked, and then he gently moved his hand, the large palm lay on her neck under her ear, and his thumb brushed her jaw, and she forgot to observe or keep her back straight and just melted into it, her head empty and all her skin tingling. There was no tongue, just tender caresses, and then he gently caught her bottom lip between his warm, mouth-watering, mind-blowing, soft pink lips, and she moaned. She was behaving like a slag and an inexperienced cow, but she didn't care. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed his second hand on her ribs, and then a loud pointed cough came from the matron's table. She jerked, and tried moving away, but he kept her close, one last time his lips brushed on hers, in a sweet goodbye, and she realised that now he was moving away, and she was leaning. Abort, abort, abort, oh the humiliation! What the fuck was wrong with her?!

"That was..." Her voice was so coarse, as if she just nibbled on a chair leg and had splinters in her throat, and she panicked. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Uh-huh," he was giving her a mocking studying look, "Do enlighten me, Leary, what it was." His cheekbones were flushed, and pupils dilated, but otherwise he seemed unaffected. Wow, he was totally chill with that! She felt like he just pulled her soul out by a string, and he was absolutely bloody chill! That 'King of Slytherin' tone of his he would use on her before sobered her up. She took a deep breath in and looked him directly in the eyes.

"A mistake. A lapse of judgement. I just felt very guilty. It will never happen again." Yes, exactly, that was good. Firm and decisive. Fuck. He slightly tilted his head, and his eyes grew cold.

"Interesting, Leary... I seem to recall how you stated that only a bint without any self-respect would deigh to the immoral skanky manwhore such as myself, and yet here we are, Wren Leary. You went on a date with me to get what you wanted and kissed me to pay me off for injuries I sustained." His word felt like _Sercumsepra _spell cutting through her body. He basically called her a whore, and was he wrong? "At least some chick I shag in the back alley of the Three Broomsticks or the one who gives me a blowjob in the prefect bathroom does it because she wants it."

He wasn't leaving, just sitting on her bed, his words still hanging between them. Had he rushed out of the room, she could have reckoned he was just cheesed off and lashed out. But judging by his calm narrowed eyes scanning for her reaction, that was indeed his opinion of her. Sadly, she shared it.

Tears were running down her face, and he slowly got up. "Do get better soon, Leary. And remember, in everyone's eyes I literally blew your mind. But since you've just had some taste, you'll be able to convincingly lie further on."

He left the wing, with another polite bow towards the matron, and Wren rolled in a ball, covering by the blanket with her head. She had mastered the skill of silent crying when she had been sent to her first boarding school, and she allowed herself the luxury of bawling her eyes out.

How did everything got so arsed up?

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><p>She spent the next week keeping her head down, not even raising her hand in classes. At some point Professor Longbottom even asked her with sincere concern in his tone if she had happened to 'consume some Glumbumble treacle by accident,' and she mumbled something incoherent and hid behind her Flutterby bush.<p>

She did become the common target of jokes, mocking looks and snide remarks, and once she found a parchment on her bed, with a doodle portraying two stickfigures intertwined in a an enthusiastic copping off session, their arms and legs wrapped around each other like a Snarfalump, and then the picture moved, a poorly drawn explosion bloomed between them, and they flew into two opposite directions from each other. She threw it out and quickly hid under her blanket.

She felt horrible, and not just because she wholeheartedly agreed with what Durinson said about her, but also because she failed. And this disappointment made her hate herself even more. She lost perspective, pretty much whored herself out, and didn't even get what she wanted. So, to summarize she was a slag and a loser. Ace.

Thursday evening she found a secluded corner in the library and was sitting on the floor, with a Herbology book on her lap, when Thea, and seriously, the chick must have had some sort of barmy radar, plopped near her.

"Alright, Leary, enough of the po-faced tude, what's wrong with you?" She looked over Wren's shoulder into the book and cringed, "Seriously, you don't need any more studying. I'm starting to think that your hair is so big to house all this knowledge, and believe me, it's not very flattering." Wren gave her a pitiful look. How couldn't Thea understand? Anywhere she went, she was stared at, laughed at, pointed at, to say nothing of the fact she could hardly even understand how to live with herself these days. And above it all, there was a chance to run into Durinson…

"I just want to stay here," her voice was small, and she pressed the book to her chest.

"OK, Leary, enough! You showed a bit of poor judgment, you went out with him…. Beats me why you would, but OK, and then you embarrassed yourself in front of half the school, and then he apparently dumped you. He did, didn't he?" Thea wasn't even waiting for her answer. "Although technically, does it count as dumping if he wasn't dating you? Because no bloody way he did, since he probably isn't familiar with the concept..." Wren pressed her head into her shoulders harder, she was not going to talk. She was not discussing it, she was not thinking about it, she would just go numb till the end of this year, and then forget about it, about the school, about Thorin Durinson, about how pale he looked on the ground, about how his fingers brushed her side and she wanted to jump on him and topple him on that hospital bed… She emitted a pathetic squeak, Thea was apparently still talking and now froze with her mouth half-open. "Leary?"

"Thea," she was aiming for a firm tone and failing miserably, "You can't say anything that would change my mind. I'm doing fine, I'm studying and my grades are ace, so just leave me, please." Thea gave her a sceptical look, but then Wren remembered how worried the Gryffindor chick looked in the Hospital Wing, "And thank you for trying to cheer me up, and for being here for me… I've never had a friend like you, it's brill..." Wren gave her a shaky smile. She never had had any friends for that matter, she had always tried to avoid getting too attached, everything would change in the next term, and she'd be dragged to yet another bloody continent, to say nothing of a school. Thea studied her a bit more, and then sighed deeply.

"OK, I honestly don't know why I'm doing it, but here is the deal," Thea pushed her manicured fingers in the low cut of her cashmere sweater and pulled out a tinsy envelope. "This was on your bed, I overheard two chicks laughing about it in the first floor washroom, one of them was that Davies bitch, and I guess Durinson shagged her last year, and she is all cheesed off about this whole you and him thing..."

"There is no me and him thing..." Wren mumbled and stretched her hand, but Thea jerked the envelope away from her.

"OK, Leary, here is how we are going to do it. I confiscated this envelope from the two bints and I'm only giving it to you if you finally stop being a daft cow and accept the truth."

"What truth?" Wren gulped and stared at the envelope. She'd lie if she said she didn't recognise the handwriting on it, _W.E. Leary, _with confident swishes and ostentatious loops on _W _and _L_. "And when was that put on my bed?"

"This morning. They wanted to open it, but it was jinxed, I guess only you can open it, but they were planning to try a few more charms on it, and let everyone in the school know what's in it. If not, they were planning to burn it." Wren felt momentarily shocked. What had she done to them?! She hardly knew Davies, and she assumed the second one was probably that Goldstein chick, they never went anywhere separately.

"What did you do to them?"

"Well, let's say they won't need those manky curling spells for a while now," Thea's voice was murderous, and Wren shuddered. She would never want to be on the receiving end of Thea Martin's fury. "So do you want it?"

"Yes, Thea, please, may I have it?" Wren aimed for an obedient, good girl tone and gave Thea puppy eyes.

"Then put on your big girl's panties and accept that you fancy the bloke, and he is quite obviously interested in you too."

"What?! No! No to both!" Wren couldn't believe it! What the fuck?!

"Leary, I know wet knickers when I see them. You want to get off with him so hard your cute little ears start twitching when he walks by. I don't judge you, and again… My oh my, if he can do this with one snog… Blimey..." Thea's face was momentarily dreamy, but then she focused her giant brown orbs on Wren again, "And he is going out of his usual ways to get to you. The whole introducing to his Pater, taking you to Hogsmeade, and he never ever goes there with anybody, leaving this on your bed..." Thea enticingly shook the envelope in front of Wren's nose, "He is into you, chick."

Wren decided she was dreaming. Yeah, she needed to pinch herself. What?... What?!.. She was trying to collect her thoughts, but they were scattering around like Black beetle eyes. He had never taken anyone to the village?! He pretty much blackmailed her into it! He did introduce her to his father, and more so, to the Hermione Granger!

She quickly grabbed the envelope from Thea's hand, which got her a dischuffed 'not fair, chick!' and ripped it open. Inside there was a small parchment with his swank, firm handwriting.

_Leary,_

_Go to my father's office and volunteer for the extra-curriculum activities committee. Say you are dying of boredom and want to enliven this dump. Say you have plenty of free time. After he appoints you in charge of yet another moronic hustle, mention you would like to continue your private classes._

_T.D._


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: The credit for the orange goo spitting plant's name goes to Wynni :)**

* * *

><p>"Thorin!" A small but heavy body thudded into Thorin's stomach, and he humphed and opened his eyes. Apparently he had fallen asleep on a sofa in the common room. Again. What was going on with his sleep? He felt so iffy these days. Couldn't fall asleep, then would collapse in the common room. He was probably going down with something...<p>

He shifted his eyes and met Kili's brown peepers. The wean was sitting straddling him, a grin from ear to ear and slightly bobbing in anticipation. That wasn't good. "Can we go too? Please, please, please! We want to go too, please, you can convince her, please..."

Thorin wondered if there existed whining induced migraines, because he properly was heading towards one. But before he managed to shake the little bugger off and snarl at him, and yes, he bloody knew neither of the bairns was scared of him, the second shining clock showed up from behind the back of the sofa. Fili was smiling as usual, blue eyes brilliant, and Thorin groaned. Whatever it was, he knew he'd give in and that would cock up his day. Or week.

"We can go, it is not age restricted, and she will let us, right?" Unlike his brother, Fili went for arguments as opposed to whinging. Thorin threw his arm over his eyes, and played dead. Never worked with them though, and a small clammy hand was already poking his chin.

"Thorin, Thorin, common… Thor-i-i-in..."

"What?" He barked at them, and they sniggered. Bloody family, no respect whatsoever.

"Can we go too, please?"

"I have no idea what you two are talking about, and probably no, you can't." Kili pouted and looked at his brother for help. Fili climbed over the back of the sofa, landed on Thorin's stomach as well, who deftly regretted having indulged during his dinner.

"The fair the weekend after next!" Fili looked at him in astonishment, as if he couldn't believe someone could miss such ace news. "Everyone is putting down their signatures, and they need permissions from adults, but it's for everyone this time. Everyone can go to Hogsmeade, if they have an older student accompanying them. And since there are two of us, you can only take one, and please, please, talk to her… She'll listen to you."

"Who she?" Thorin rubbed his face with his hands. Here we go, the migraine.

"Wren Leary. She is responsible for it. It was her idea, and she found all those vendors, and they say a famous Quidditch player is coming, and what if it's her Da?" Fili's voice was reaching unprecedented height, and he pulled a Quidditch card with Breandan Leary sitting on a broom, smiling and waving, out of his pocket. Thorin once again wondered how such burly, hench dark haired man managed to father an ickle scrap of a ginger. "Thorin…."

"I'll talk to her, and again I'm sure Bofur will take one of you instead of me, if she objects." If Thorin didn't have a migraine before, the deafening squee gave him one for sure. He shook the two thrashing in glee bodies off him and decided some kip was in order. The two bubtions were doing some sort of a barmy victory dance behind him, and he dragged himself to the dormitory and fell on his bed. His eyes were closing, and the last thought he had was that apparently she took his advice, and look at her, an overachiever in anything she did. He ordered himself to think about something else and fell into heavy manky slumber.

* * *

><p>It was breakfast time, and he was half listening to Dwalin discussing their last practice. The Beater's speech included words such as "arsehole" and "cobblers" regarding their Seeker, sixth year student, and Thorin shared Dwalin's opinion, when his father rose on his feet and made a small announcement. It had an effect of nicely executed <em>Bombarda <em>charm. The Great Hall exploded in loud excited voices, everyone was moving and shuffling, and the Headmaster had to tap his wand on the table.

Apparently there was now a knees-up held every Friday night, starting next week, all students fourth year and older were invited, it was to be held in the Great Hall at eight and to last till midnight. These were also fancy parties, themed, and he could see panic rising in chicks' eyes. He cringed in disgust. They would be discussing it all day now, faffing around and whinging they had nothing to wear. He had a sister after all, he had to listen to this bleeding rubbish for years.

"Miss Leary from the seventh year Ravenclaw is responsible for this activity, and all questions can be directed to her," Thrain's calm voice caused another kerfuffle, and everyone looked at her. Her cheeks were flaming, but she got up and jerked her chin up. A fair and the parties, well done, Leary, she was really working her arse off for those McGonagall classes.

He could imagine how hard it must have been to her. She quite obviously couldn't stand any attention to her sad little muggins, she was now the target of all possible rumours and everyone was still taking the mickey at her 'mind-blowing snog incident,' as it was known, and he wondered what she was doing in those classes that made her go through what quite obviously seemed like a torture for her. He felt something oddly reminiscent of admiration. Frigid or not, she was determined, and that he could understand.

"The first party will be 90's themed, it should be easy to find costumes for, and there will be muggle music as well as Weird Sisters," her accent was stronger, she was nervous, but her head was set proudly, and he couldn't help but smirk. What a fire ball!

"And also," Thrain's voice was calm but commanding, and everyone quieted down, "No teachers or otherwise adults are to supervise this event." Shocked gasps and murmurs ran through the Hall, "There will be spells preventing those attending from consuming substances, using magic or engaging in several other activities, which the Ministry and the school deem unacceptable, but we trust you to enjoy your time responsibly." The last phrase hung in the air, and several students nodded, others exchanged looks.

Thorin wondered how far the Ministry was planning to go to 'raise students' spirit.' That plan was bloody mental, it would be an orgy and a slaughter at the same time. Or dull and berkish, which was possibly worse. He finished his breakfast and rushed to the Herbology class. As he predicted nothing productive had been achieved through this day, chicks chin wagging, ahh'ing and ohh'ing, blokes pretending to not care, and then Chinese Chomping Cabbages attacked a Hufflepuff chick, and Professor Longbottom had to escort her to the Hospital Wing. The rest of the students dropped their tools and started chatting loudly, with the exception of Leary who only seemed to be more absorbed in pruning her Snargaluff, aloof, reserved expression on her angular clock. Couple people tried to prod her for some info on the do, but she shook her head and continued her work.

Since that day in the Hospital Wing she seemingly had not lifted her head once, her eyes always down to the floor, and of course she was so obviously avoiding him it was almost funny. He considered coming up to her, but then he thought she probably would jump up and cut of couple of her small digits with the pruner if he did. She was so jittery these days, there was proper danger of her _Stupefy_'ing him out of surprise. Might as well leave poor muppet alone.

* * *

><p>Except he couldn't. The more he thought about it, the more cheesed off he felt. Why couldn't he get her out of his head? He made himself look at her attentively now. She was a minger, he repeated to himself, skinny, no tits, nothing, absolutely nothing fit about her. Skinny shoulders, sticking out collarbones, pale skin, wide red mouth, that made her look like some sort of an exotic frog. The ridiculous hair, a body of a sickly twelve year old, and had he mentioned no tits? Thorin had a type, he would shag others as well, but if asked he'd say chestnut hair, generous chest and round hips. Thea Martin, Thea Martin was his type, and the only chick he propositioned twice. The rest… 'No' after all meant 'no', and he could always find a more willing one.<p>

Except with the ginger he lost all sense and was behaving like gormless pish. He pretty much forced himself on her, and he had never in his bleeding life acted that way, but she stood there, and some grotty buzzing was in his ears, and he was looking at her odd red lips, and he thought how she had probably snogged Anderson, and some bloody unidentified others, and then he didn't even know where it came from! It had been drilled in his brain since he was little to never give anything up, especially to those wimps like Rivendell or Mirkwood, and he was Durinson after all! And everyone had a piece of her, they laughed at dinners with her, and she whispered with them in classes, even that daft shorty Baggins seemed mates with her, and she pouted her lips stubbornly at him, and something snapped in him!..

And then he went all mushy and twitty when she kissed him, and then he threw a wobbler when she took it back. What the fuck? Was he ten and 'no takesies backsies'?! And no, he was not recalling every brush of her lips on his, she was obviously inexperienced but very, very eager, and that quiet little moan, and her little fingers clenching his jumper on his chest... Fuck.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Last night Bellatrice LeFaux from sixth year sat on his lap and asked him whether he would like a walk to the Potions Basement, which was a universal code for a quick nookie, and she was known for giving a great head, and he shook her off his lap and explained it by headache. Headache! What sort of a bodgy, half-witted, poncy excuse was that?!

Leary leaned in closer to her pot, carefully pulling at a twig, trying not to set the tetchy plant off, and an orange curl fell and brushed her cheekbone. She tried to move it away with the back of her hand, repeating the maneuver several time, then tried to blow the springly lock away, rounding her red lips and puffing air, after which she irritatedly mumbled something in Gaelic, and proceeded ignoring the bother. And that's when he realised he was ogling her. Like a boffin who would breathe heavily staring at a chick, he was running his eyes from her long neck to the delicate jaw line, high cheekbone, small ear, she twitched her nose, and he decided he had to stop before he lost any self-respect he had left, and he jerked, and his elbow met a plant behind him.

African Herbaceous Touch-Me-Not that Professor Longbottom was so fond of reacted exactly the way Miranda Goshawk described in her encyclopedia. It opened its large dark magenta pod and rained its poisonous orange sap all over the students standing nearest to it. Since most of the students had migrated in one corner by then, chewing the fat over the knees-up and discussing the costumes and the bangles, the only two people who had received the orange shower were Thorin himself and Leary who was still industriously pruning. The goo immediately started eating on the outer layers of their garb, bubbling and hissing.

Thorin jerked off his robe and jumper, knowing well how quickly the sodding poison could get onto skin and leave grotty red burns, but apparently Leary wasn't that advanced in Herbology. She was standing staring at him, her eyes twice as big, and he grabbed her robe and started pulling it off.

"Damn it, Leary, chivvy up! It's melting your robe!" She blinked and finally sussed that she was being the goo's nosh. She thrashed and twisted out of the robe he was pulling. Since she took her sweet time, the poison went through her jumper already and was probably snacking on her shirt. The very pristine white shirt that she now quickly unbuttoned and shrugged off.

She was a virgin, that he knew for sure, that was one bloody thing he was sure of these days, and now he was staring at the sexiest bra he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of them! It was frisky, peach coloured, made of lace, and hiding absolutely nothing. He immediately took all his derisive thoughts about her tits back. They were glorious. Small, perky, perfectly shaped, with bright red nipples. And again, the bra… Why would a virgin and a prude need a bra like that?! Something conked out in his brain, he felt hot, then sharply cold, then slightly dizzy. Bloody hell, man, focus! You had shagged more chicks that there were thorns on the Spiky Prickly Plant, what was wrong?! He was staring, like a spotty teen in a lingerie store, and she noticed, squeaked and hid behind the nearest Self-Fertilising Shrub. Which only made him more confused, if she wasn't going to show it to anybody, why would she even wear something the sheer memory of which was going to give a healthy bloke a pan handle for a week?!

One of the female students rushed to her and threw a robe around her. Leary mumbled some words of gratitude and sprinted out of the greenhouse. Her cheeks were flaming, and he exhaled sharply. He was definitely going down with something... What other explanation was there?


	15. Chapter 15

The Great Hall was decorated with balloons, floating banners, and ponged of 90's so hard that Thorin started searching for the drinks table right from the entrance door. C+C Music Factory blaring at the background made it even worse.

"Thorin Durinson," a house Elf was sitting by the door on a tall stool, with a clipboard and a quill, apparently putting down the names of the newly arrived, and Thorin gave him a slight nod. "And your plus one?" The creature squawked and looked behind Thorin's back.

"I don't do plus one's," Thorin started walking by the Elf and quickly mumbled, "Have a good evening, sir." The shocked Elf emitted a squeak and Thorin saw his eyes grow enormous.

"Me?.. Oh… Thank you... sir," the Elf voice was shaking behind Thorin, and then he heard loud sobbing. Bloody hell, Thorin would always forget that not all Elves were used to such treatment. Shite, now it looked like he offended the poor sod.

And apparently that was exactly how it looked to Wren Leary, judging by the murderous butcher's she was giving him rushing by. He froze on one spot and swore under his breath.

First of all, she was now patting the shoulder of the hiccuping Elf, who was smearing his snot on his long nosed wrinkly face, pointing at Thorin, incomprehensible hollering mixed with 'Durinson' and 'Slytherin' and 'pureblood,' and Thorin bloody knew what it looked like. She was cooing and faffing around the Elf and glaring at Thorin interchangeably. What a bleeding palava!

Secondly, she wasn't wearing a daft skater chick outfit as he had expected. But seriously, she wore all this hipster shite, baggy sweaters, skinny jeans, grandpa glasses, and after classes she always looked like a racoon with all that black paint around her eyes. He expected baggy denim, some plaid maybe, and a top showing her flat stomach, and, yes, he might have been looking forward to it. Or he could see her in some grunge shite.

He was not ready for a titchy black dress, that hugged her like the second skin, with something that looked like a transparent black shirt put over it. It was open and hid nothing, and what exactly was the bloody point of this thing? Her fiery hair was gathered in a ponytail on top of her head, with a velvet hair band, his brain eagerly reminded him they were called scrunchies, and who bloody cared, brain?! And she bent to the Elf that now decided that repeatedly hitting his head between his batty ears with the clipboard would certainly improve the situation. Leary's perky round bum stuck up, the hem slid up her shapely thighs, one inch more and he'd see her knickers, and Thorin fled.

* * *

><p>He found Dwalin consuming chocolate eclairs near the bowl with the famous purple punch of Professor Slughorn, and Thorin toppled a cup into his throat. He told himself that he only needed to spend about an hour here, and then he could leave. Like he said to Leary, the Ministry was looking for 'healthy balance' in the lives of the students, apparently the girl who killed herself blamed the pressure of studies and the Houses rivalry for her decision. So Thorin had put on torn jeans, a white tee and a septic baseball jacket and dragged his poor arse here. He'd chat with mates, make eyes at some chicks, maybe leave with one, he never took them anywhere but there were always offers to leave together, a quick shag in the prefect bathroom, and then he'd sleep. He really needed to figure out the whole kip aggro. He picked up another cup to his lips, and then he choked on the manky sweet drink.<p>

Thea Martin had just entered the Hall, her arm looped through Anderson's, and every bloke in the room perked up like a hound at the sound of a hunter's horn. That was how crop tops were done, ladies and gentlemen, it was also fluffy and just asking for a good old fondle of her mind-blowing tits, and all that paired with a short tartan pleated skirt, thigh high black stockings and those strange bulky shoes they wore then. Dark lipstick on her lips was causing some sort of a short term spasm in every bloke's body at the moment. Except Anderson, of course, Thorin thought vindictively. The git wore denim overalls, over a white tee, one side unclasped, and was he bloody serious? But a couple of chicks to Thorin's right aww'ed and one of them sighed wistfully. Daft cows.

As if it could get any worse _Spice Up Your Life_ started above Thorin's head, and he groaned. At least there was no karaoke. There was room left for dancing, where the High Table usually stood, but the dance floor was empty. The Hall was quickly filling with students in most gormless costumes, but most kept near the drinks and pudding, and Thorin sincerely prefered it that way, because no bloody spell could make some of them pleasant to look at when dancing.

Except when Wren Leary had a goal, there was no stopping her. Damn ginger steamroller. His cup still at his lips, Thorin saw her march across the hall and grab Anderson's hand. He gave her a wide smile, wanker, and she pulled him in the middle of the empty space.

Boyzone's_ Picture of You_, and Thorin shortly wondered if there had been a cornier song in 90's, trickled out of the clouds up at the ceiling, confetti and sparly shite followed, it all looked like a daft septic prom film, and she moved lightly, her slender hips swaying gently, he swirled her, even in the daft 90's shoes, heels and bulky platforms, she was ickle, and then he wrapped his arm around her waist and dunked her, she laughed and bent backwards, dropping her head back. More couples came out, and after that the madness started.

Thorin understood how bloody fucked he was when a wave of Kriss Kross and Salt'n'Pepper shonky hits started, and he realised she knew how to dance. As in actually dance. He suddenly remembered how Dis once made him watch those muggle dance films. They had been stuck in their summer mansion, the weather was manky, it kept on land-lashing, and he spent a week on a sofa watching muggle films with her. Since she was the worst bampot and had both her feet definitely left oriented, she couldn't dance for the life of her. Thus _Dirty Dancing _and of course bloody _Step Up. _

And now he was in one of those grotty flicks. A fucking protagonist of the film was looking at the chick he previously had found moderately fit, and suddenly she threw the dance moves, and he found his sorry arse all lurved up and breathing heavily.

With a few blokes from Hufflepuff, she bent and swayed, and she was fluid and so bloody fit! All her moves were sharp, precise, eyes squinted in pleasure, and soon enough there were just her and a few proper dancers left on the floor. _U Can't Touch This _earned them roaring laughter and wide applause, and after_Shake Your Bon-Bon_ he was so uncomfortable in his pants that he pondered sticking his head into No-Melt Icecream. Because that very bon-bon tended to visit him in his dreams quite a lot before, and now it was twirled, bobbed and swayed, in the sodding clingy dress, and... Fuck.

And then it turned out that many chicks for some inconceivable reason knew the moves to something called _Baby, One More Time, _and they all did this barmy spontaneous group dance, with Leary and Martin in the first row, and it was rather easy to understand where a couple of boffins rushed after watching all this hip thrusting and bum rotating, and after Leary made a full circle backwards flip, and yes, her knickers were black too, Thorin considered a quick wank in the loo himself.

* * *

><p>Then slow dances started, and she was nowhere to be seen, and he wondered what he was still doing there, when a pair of arms snaked around his waist from behind.<p>

"One dance, Durinson?" He looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of a chick from sixth year Gryffindor. There was nothing interesting in her per se, but the fact that she was completely bladdered was worthy of investigation.

There were spells on the entrance door, no booze allowed, one couldn't get it in and couldn't enter if pissed. The same went for PMA. One couple went for a snog in one of the corners, there was a loud bang, and both of them were now wandering the hall looking like hamsters in those balls, each one of them was surrounded by a sphere of purple magic that wouldn't allow anyone approach then closer than a foot. The spell was to dissolve in half an hour and they were just keeping distance from each, followed by teasing stares and manky sniggering. Several more students tried to investigate, someone went for a kiss on the neck, or no snogging and just rubbing parts to parts, the samey. Apparently this spell knew something about copping off, since it would let one dance but quickly penalised if groping started.

Thorin picked up the hand of the squiffy chick and led her to the dancing floor._You Are My Patronus _by Weird Sisters was howling above, and he suppressed a cringe. She wrapped around him like Devil's Snare, and he assumed that just like with the plant the more he'd fight, the more she'd choke him, so he just kept on twirling her slowly on the floor, and when she looked sufficiently bladdered, he leaned in and seductively whispered into her ear, and yes, he was faking it, Merlin's beard, she was a minger.

"So, love, where did you get the plonk?" The bint daftly sniggered and made what she thought was flirty peepers at him.

"What do I get for the info, Durinson?"

"A lot," he purred into her ear, and then brushed his lips to her helix. Bingo, the bird was toast. She swayed, good thing he was supporting her, and then she sniggered again.

"I want the Leary Treatment." What the actual…? He looked at her miffed, and she bit into her bottom lip. Why the fuck was he comparing it to another set of lips? "That's how it's called, innit? The Leary Treatment, a snog that good that I'd explode. That's how those Ravenclaw chicks called it, and it's now a thing." He needed to think fast.

"Direct me to the booze, luvvy, and I'll treat just like the Leary chick." He wasn't lying, was he? He could call her a whore, insult her, make her cry and then hate himself for it. Those damn peepers and the lost, heartbroken look she gave him on the cot… Fuck.

"The B brothers have a broom suspended behind one of the windows, and if you know someone, they let you have a sip. There are no daft spells on the windows." Huh… Thorin continued twirling her, his mind working quickly.

Funnily enough his first thought wasn't of the firewhiskey that the chick was ponging with, but that Leary would get in barney for this. She was in a charge, and many would be arseholed by the end of the do. He fought with himself for a few minutes, while increasingly more and more of the Gryffindor chick's body surface was pressed into him, and then he pushed her away and rushed to look for Leary. He decided he'd agonise over being a spineless twat, a big girl's blouse, a manky nutter, and mad, completely mad, sometime later, and where the bloody fuck was she?

* * *

><p>On the way he saw Bombur laughing in a corner with couple blokes from Hufflepuff, and he made a sharp detour and grabbed the fatman's collar.<p>

"Oi, Thorin, what's up, mate?" Bombur's eyes were suspiciously shiny, but he had always been a hard bloke, he definitely could drink more than most, and Thorin pulled him to his face.

"Knock it off, right now. You and your brothers have thirty second to get rid of that natty little gismo you have going, are we clear?" He added enough growl into his voice for an average bloke to wee himself a bit. Bombur was a mate, so he had higher tolerance, but he looked sufficiently bricking it.

"Common, Thorin..." He whinged, and Thorin gave him another shake.

"You'll arse up the dos altogether, twonks. Do you think they'll be giving us all these privileges if half the school gets pissed? Tell Bofur to take it down, I know it's his broom." He pushed the fatman away, and then he noticed Leary's red head in the far corner, talking to some chicks. He squared his shoulders and started walking towards. She needed to remove the rat arsed students, if she didn't want any aggro. And he couldn't believe, was he actually going to offer her help?!

He quickly came up to her, "Leary?" She jumped up and stared at him like a terrified Niffler. He gave her a light smile, "A dance?"

"Um… No, thank you… I don't… Don't... The slow dance is just not my cup of tea..." She was squeakily mumbling, and he grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. She didn't dig her heels at least, but kept her head low. She was right, everyone was staring, but he needed to talk. He pulled her into him, one hand on her ickle waist, seriously, with both he could probably encircle it, and his other hand closed over her tiny fingers. She gulped, delicate throat moved, and he gritted his teeth. Well done, Durinson, behaving like a proper knob-end, saunter in your fucking shining armour, maybe she'd snog you again out of gratitude, it ended so wicked last time!

While he was mentally insulting himself, trying to ignore how her hand was trembling in his, she cleared her throat and mumbled, "That was very nice… What you did with Dingy..." He jerked out of his bloody self-flogging and looked down at her. Her cheeks were burning, and he just wanted to kiss her. Oh sod it all…

"What dingy?"

"The Elf, he told me you called him 'sir' and wished him good evening. It was nice…" She smiled slightly, "Well, I firstly thought you insulted him, but after he cleaned his nose..."

"OK, Leary, belt it, the last thing I want to talk about is Elf snot." He sounded more cheesed off than he planned, but whatever, anything better than imagining grabbing a handful of her mad curls at the back of her head and snogging the hell out of her.

"Oh?" She made a funny little noise somewhere in her throat, "And what do you want to talk about?" Was that a tinge of hope he heard in her tiny voice?


	16. Chapter 16

For the next forty seven minutes, and Wren hated her perfect sense of time, the two of them had been wandering the Great Hall, fishing out pissed students. After a while Dingy the Elf had joined them, adoration burning in his giant eyes when he would stare up at Durinson, and Wren sincerely hoped her face didn't have the same barmy expression. The completely arseholed ones were deftly removed from the Hall, Dingy would apparate them in the nearest loo, where the B Brothers, clocks guilty and giving Durinson puppy peepers would dunk the poor sods heads into the sink to sober them up. The lightly squiffy ones were given coffee and manky sweet tart for the same purposes.

Durinson was blinking efficient and terrifying ruthless. And honestly, she shouldn't be complaining, but fuck… Why exactly was he behaving like her friend? To scan the Hall they would sometimes have to dance, one bloody slow dance after another, everyone stared, and at some point Wren caught Thea's questioning look. Wren bit into her bottom lip, and just prayed to all deities possible for this to end quickly. She felt so at sixes and sevens that all she could do is follow his quiet, firm orders. Bloody King of Slytherin...

At some point the aggro escalated a wee bit, one especially pissed student started an argy-bargy, and they had to escort him to a bathroom together, since Dingy was busy with some chick from Hufflepuff that was slowly sliding down along the wall, a barmy chuffed expression on her face, and the B Brothers were removing the broom that decided it liked it there in the fresh air.

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><p>Durinson dunked the Gryffindor fifth year into the sink full of Baltic water, and the bloke weakly whimpered.<p>

"Common, Thomas, man up! Just a small bath!" Durinson's tone was disdainful, and once again Wren felt like she needed to hide in her bed and cover with a blanket over her head to process this. He was helping her, but he still looked cheesed off and kept on throwing her derisive looks like she was the worst slag and a cow. That was supposed to be his opinion on her, right? Or not? Oh bugger…

He let go of the student who started impersonating the Whomping Willow, flailing his arms.

"I am OK, OK, sober as a… sober man. I'm good!" He was whinging, and Durinson pushed him towards the door.

"Dry up and go have some coffee. You'll feel better in no time." Yeah, Durinson's well-trained bedside manners really didn't match the sneering mockery in his tone and how his lips were twisted in a snidy grimace. The Gryffindor bloke disappeared in the corridor, and Wren leaned her back to the wall heavily. It was time to put on big girl's knickers and start thanking him. She inhaled and opened his mouth.

"Don't start, Leary," he was wiping his hands with a paper towel, "I get it. I saved your neck and you are endlessly grateful. You are welcome, and sod it." She froze with her mouth open. He was sneering through his teeth and looked altogether as if she just peed in his cauldron in Potions class, and that is after helping her for an hour! What was going on in his sodding noggin? She closed her mouth with the audible clank of her teeth and decided he could shove his tude where the sun didn't shine.

"You know what?" She made a step towards him, gave him a glare and pointed her finger at his long nose. She had to drop her head up, he was so bloody tall, and she felt her cheeks burning. Sod it all. "I don't know what's your aggro, and honestly I don't give a shite, maybe you really love parties or something… But I'm not listening to your rubbish. I'm grateful, and you will accept my thank-you's even if I have to _Stupefy_ you and yell them into your face." He was looking down at her, his eyebrows hiked up, and then he suddenly started guffawing.

"Seriously, Leary, if I didn't know better I'd think you are partially a fire-breathing chicken. I think I see a bit of smoke coming off you," he wiggled his fingers around her head, and she choked on her righteous indignation. What the actual fuck…? He was looking at her, a small smile playing on his lips, his eyes seemed warm and teasing, and now she really didn't understand owt.

"Common, Leary, we have couple more piss-artists to catch, and then we can actually enjoy the Slughorn punch." The disgusted grimace on her face made him laugh even harder.

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><p>The party ended up a success, with the exception of a few students who were nursing headache after forceful sobering, but even they seemed rather chuffed. Everyone was leaving, many in pairs, and many not with those whom they came with, and Wren felt rather irritated. What was their problem?! Yes, they were hormonal teens, but who said they were supposed to act upon these grotty urges? Thea had disappeared an hour ago, some Hufflepuff mincing after her like a chuffed puppy, Auggie left soon after, Wren hurriedly pecked his cheek goodbye, rushing by after another squiffy Hufflepuff chick.<p>

And now suddenly it was only her and House Elves cleaning up in the Hall. Dingy brought her the clipboard, she quickly sighed it, all students were accounted for, and she heavily sat on the nearest chair. It felt funny, it was done, she did it, but there was a strange feeling as if something else was supposed to happen… She mentally ran through the list of things to take care of, and no, all was brill. And no, she wasn't hoping he would wait for her after the party, what the hell of a moronic idea was that?!

She was watching two House Elves playing a semblance of muggle footie with a balloon, and finally she could pull the bloody scrunchie off her hair! It had taken a lot of pulling and a fair amount of spells to keep her daft mane in place, and right now she felt like her scalp was on fire. She pushed her hands into the hair and started massaging the head. It felt better than wanking. She closed her eyes, dropped her head back at the top rail of the chair back, and moaned loudly.

"Didn't know you were such a screamer, Leary," Durinson's mocking voice came from above her, and her eyes flew open. He was standing, one hand in the pocket of his torn denim, and bloody fuck, he looked good in them! This arse was criminal! He held his jacket in the other hand, thrown over his shoulder, and her fanny said a definite yes, to the white tee, and the muscles she could see on his chest and, bloody Merlin's pants, these biceps…

The problem with Wren, and she knew it about herself well, was that she tended to bottle stuff up. She was well aware why the Hat didn't put her into Gryffindor, it had nothing to do with her oversized brain. Wren was a coward, and not in a healthy self-preservation way. She'd be fine to fight a dragon or some of that heroic shite, but she just could never try anything new. Or try something she knew she might not succeed in. She would habitually excuse herself to the bathroom in a class if she didn't know the perfect answer to a question that was asked. If it wasn't perfect and she wouldn't look the best afterwards, she would never then she would accumulate a certain amount of bottled up feels and would snap. Big time. And do something very, very stupid. And probably regret it afterwards. But while it lasted she was on fire.

Pretty much like right now. She jumped on her feet, grabbed his hand and started pulling him after her to the corridor. No questions, don't ask any question, just belt it, she kept on repeating in her head, and he didn't. He just walked after her chuckling, and then she stopped in front of the prefect bathroom. She was shaking head to toe but couldn't lift her eyes at him. He wasn't helping, just stood there completely bloody calm! Blimey, she would have hated his chill tude, but the roaring in her ears and thoughts whizzing about like pixies didn't let her concentrate on one sensation. Oh, Wren had snapped, and there was nothing to be done now...

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><p>She jerked the door and marched in. He softly followed and closed the door behind him.<p>

"OK, here is what we are going to do..." Her voice broke, but she exhaled sharply and finally faced him. He had a slightly amused expression, but her brain had already conked out, and fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it all. She squared her shoulders. "Show me."

He was studying her, and she clenched her fists. She had couple seconds of this sudden madness left, and then she'd run. And potentially transform into a cat forever and live in Hogwarts kitchen catching rats. She wouldn't be able to face him ever again, if he didn't start doing or saying something right now.

"This statement is a goldmine for innuendo laced answers, Leary, but what exactly do you mean?" That would be exactly the answer that would set her running if he hadn't stepped to her, and she hadn't caught the smell of his cologne. Oh, she immediately felt bladdered. He was so, so hot! Not just as in bleeding fit, but the heat was coming in waves from his body. Which one of them was a fire-breathing chicken? Her cheekbones were flaming painfully, and then he picked up her chin with his finger again, like in the Hospital Wing, and she squeezed her eyes. Mamma… What the fuck did you get yourself into, Wren?

"You helped me..." Her voice was squeaky, but then she grounded herself. That's right, he helped her. He had a reason for that. She opened her eyes and met his bright blue one. Fuck, he was gorgeous. "You obviously want something from me. Wanted something, from the start." He was silent, his face unreadable, and she gulped but went on, "So, show me what everyone is talking about. How good you are at this, how ace it is..." Her voice was coarse, but it was gaining strength. "I'm offering it to you myself. See, you don't even have to cajole me into it. Let's try, and if it works for the both of us, we can..."

"Are you offering me a shag, Leary?" His voice was low and coarse too, but his face remained calm. She swallowed with difficulty again.

"Yes." She sounded as if she had sore throat. "I mean, we should start with some snogging, maybe one of us will hate it." One of his thick black brows started crawling up, and she watched it panicked. "I mean I might be bad at it, or you might be using too much tongue or..."

His mouth was on hers, and her knees literally bucked. She felt shortly irritated and very surprised, she seriously had thought it was a figure of speech, and then there wasn't a single bloody thought in her head. Oh fucking fuckety fuck. His large scorching hands, and oh my, she was so crazy about them, and yes, fuck it, it was time to admit she would discreetly stare at them in classes, his long fingers and a wide hot palms lay on her jaw, cupping her face, he leaned into her, her head dropped back, and it felt as if he was snogging her soul out of her. She moaned and grabbed handfuls of the sodding white tee on his sides. Her head was spinning, and yes, yes, yes! More of that, and more of everything Thorin Durinson. He made a step ahead, she started backing up, and suddenly her back hit the wall. He pushed one hand at the back of her head, and his strong fingers were moving in the mass of her hair, and she stuck her tongue in his mouth. OK, she might have been a virgin, but that wasn't her first copping off, and judging by how he ground his hips into her she did well.

He suddenly stepped back, and she had to grip the nearest towel rack to stay upright. He was breathing like a hippogriff after a flight, the chest rising in spasmodic breaths, she apparently destroyed his do, the dark waves, and bloody hell yes to them, scattered on his shoulders, and now she knew they were so bloody soft! And silky! And heavy! Oh fuck. He also had a very strange facial expression. As if he was bladdered and very, very pissed off at the same time. And in pain. But that was probably from the giant bulge on his denim that she was in no way trying to discreetly look at.

"How was that? Not too much tongue?" He sneered through bared teeth. She was going to give him an haughty 'it was fine,' but it came out as "tfuf" and then she shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"Good," he suddenly pushed his hand down his trousers and shifted something there, she assumed for comfort purposes, and heady blush spilled on her cheeks. Oh fuck. What did she get herself into? "Now explain what the fuck you are talking about." He sounded angry, he looked angry, but after this kiss no way in hell she was backing off.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Just a gentle reminder, ****my darlings**** :) You are aware of the M rating for this fic, right? :P**

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><p>At the moment Thorin very much regretted he wasn't a chick. Because they had a much better capacity to think when turned on, and he had never in his bloody life been that randy before! His whole body was buzzing, and seriously he could hardly see or hear anything. He gritted his teeth.<p>

Somehow instead of addressing the fact that she just offered him a bonk, he was still stuck on the bloody surprise over how much his brain conked out from the snog. How was she doing it? She was obviously inexperienced, not fully ignorant, but with time chicks ended up treating copping off like a demonstration of skills. This one pressed into him, like her life depended on it, as if she was trying to exchanged molecules with him, she had very small hands, and no, he had never imagined them on some of his private parts, and she was pulling at his tee, trying to move him even closer to her, and she was moaning! And he hated when they moaned! It always sounded as if they thought they were in porn. But not her, something told him she didn't even notice it herself, and the small hands were clawing at him, and she brushed her tongue on the inside of his lips, and some sort of _Bombarda Maxima_ exploded in his noggin!

She'd been staring at him for a few seconds already, red as _Periculum_ sparks, and he still couldn't get over his giant wood. He loudly cleared his throat. "So, Leary, what is it?" Was she bloody going to talk or just stare at him letting the offer hang in the air between them? She chewed at her bottom lip, and he felt like groaning and bashing his head into the towel rack that she was by the way still holding on to for dear life.

"I mean… If you want to… And you seem to, and you took me out, and..." She was mumbling, but he could see her usual sharpness quickly overpowering her embarrassment. He would never confess it, but she was ace when it came to Charms and Transfiguration, and it was so bloody fit! She could concentrate, like proper concentrate, her odd eyes would narrow, and then she was terrifying. And just as he expected, she took a deep breath in and straightened up. "I don't need anything from you beyond this, just a shag, if it works out and ends up… acceptable, we can repeat it later."

He had anticipated some sort of a Leary style mental statement, but that was beyond any expectations! He felt his jaw slack. She let go of the rack, and he couldn't fucking believe it, she started counting on her fingers. "One. You are experienced and have done it hundreds of time. I don't want my first time to end up a disaster when both sides freak out, it's a mess, and everybody feels horrible. Two. I am attracted to you, and you are to me," her odd eyes quickly dropped at his crotch, and yeah, the wood was still very much present. What?! He was seventeen and she was talking about popping her cherry while standing in front of him in a dress that he could use as a bloody glove! Was her little spiel supposed to make him less baffled? Because it wasn't bloody working. "And I have two conditions."

"Of course you do," he blurted out and pushed his hand in his hair. His head was literally spinning. She gave him a pouty look, and what? Now she wanted good manners from him? "Yes, Leary, do please enlighten me." He was sneering, but bloody hell, he couldn't suss what was happening.

She was pushing him away the whole time, from day one, he was behaving like a plonker, he started off with insulting and hurting her, he felt like a moron, then he started falling for her, and fuck it all, of course he bloody knew he was! He wasn't twelve or an idiot, that was what it was, and fuck it all! He was helping her to save her perky little arse and didn't even expect anything in return. He perhaps was even more cheesed off all through the evening when he thought she might offer him something as gratitude, but that was not fucking what he expected!

That thought stopped him in his tracks. Was that gratitude? Because whatever she just said, there was a big chance she was still riding the wave from his sauntering in and sodding saving her. He vindictively thought that he probably should have told her before that he was the one who had started the gossip that she exploded from his snog then, after the daft date they had. It was either that, or detention for violence against a fellow student, and as much as his father was lenient, no way he'd let this one slip. By now he thought he understood that much about her, embarrassment for her was still better than academic penalty. And they would have ended up in this bathroom earlier because she was a swot. Merlin's beard, even her boffinness was fit for him! Bloody hell…

"A." Apparently she switched to letters from digits. Well, it was a new list after all. He felt dizzy. "No one can know. I don't want to be considered one more of the stupid cows who shagged you. It's enough that I'll know it myself." Her tone was irritated, and funnily enough that hurt. He jerked out of his stupour and felt properly angry. That was just humiliating! Basically she was reducing him to broodstock. He considered flipping her off. Like properly. Like giving her some hurtful and insulting remark and marching out of this bathroom. "And B." She gulped and looked at the floor. "You will have to promise me to be... considerate. If you give me your word, I'll trust you."

And that's when he understood he would do it. The small voice, the burning cheeks, and whatever wording she went for, she was basically asking him to be gentle. And fuck him hundred times, that's what she was making him feel towards her. He had been fighting it and lost like a spineless twonk. She had delicate shoulders, and he suddenly saw that they were shaking, he could see the pale collarbones, and the red lips that she was trying to purse in a stubborn line were trembling, and he stepped to her, cupped her face and kissed her. He didn't want to be tender, but fuck it… She tensed, and then the slender arms went around his neck and she sighed into his lips.

He did his best, and when he moved away her eyes were unfocused, her red lips swollen, and while he was moving away, she leaned in as if looking for his lips more. "I take your conditions, Leary." She blinked several times, in the same endearing nervous gesture of hers, and he dove in again. She tasted of treacle tart she ate, and her hair smelled of lilac, he shifted his lips on her burning cheekbones, and then to the small ear. His nose got buried in the soft barmy curls, and she exhaled, and her hands slipped at the back of his head. She was moving her tiny fingers, almost scraping his head like a cat, and somehow it seemed so adorable for him that he moved back a bit and blew a small poof of air into her nose. She blinked and stared at him.

"We are not doing the whole solemn tragic seduction from _Cruel Intentions_ here, right?" What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he trying to help her relax? Apparently. Worse so, he was bloody flirting. Cretin. Moron. Nit. Numbskull. Spineless, wet, wimpy imbecile.

"Blimey, no! Ryan Phillippe is just... ugh… no," she made a funny little disgusted grimace, and he guffawed. She smiled to him widely, and he bloody adored that mouth of hers!

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><p>She was looking at him trustfully, just standing in front of him waiting for his guidance, and he sort of lost all hype. If before she seemed to be bricking it, now she was eagerly awaiting for him to apparently start shagging her, and he had no idea where to go with that.<p>

And while he was gathering his wits, she suddenly lunged at him, grabbed his neck, she had to make a small hop for that, and pulled him down. Her mouth was greedy and, fuck it, it had never felt so good, and he felt her hands faffing somewhere around his waist and he realised she was bunching up his tee. That was not good. She might not know how it went, but he had popped enough cherries in his life. It was all fun and skittles, and then at the very last moment they all lost their drive and cried off. Some preparation was needed, she needed to be randy and preferably to the point of not thinking straight, but weirdly enough she was the aggressor at the moment. Her hands were roaming his torso, she was nipping his bottom lip, and making these noises… What the fuck? Yeah, that was definitely purring. She was purring! Like a bloody cat!

He grabbed her shoulders, took charge of the snog and walked her backwards to the wall again. And then he doubled his efforts, and here we go, she was panting and her knees were giving in. He moved to the neck, then slid lower, ran his tongue along her collar bones, his nose bumped into a ying-yang hanging on a velvet choker around her long neck, she whimpered and pulled his hair painfully. He quickly knelt in front of her, continuing stroking her chest with his hands, and bloody hell, those were very nice tits! Later, Durinson, later. He slid his palms down her sides, she was mumbling something, probably being her usual control freak self, and he pushed his hands under her skirt, sliding them up, cupping her buttocks and simultaneously pushing the skirt up.

She made some noise, that could be interpreted either way, but her head was dropped back, and her small fists were clenched on the sides of her hips, and he quickly hooked his fingers on her lacy knickers. Seriously, these were not the smalls for a virgin! Two ickle triangles, couple lace ribbons, they slid down to her ankles, but she didn't move and didn't pull her leg out of them. Considering this and the loud squeak she emitted when he placed the first kiss on her fanny, he made a very logical assumption.

"Leeeary?" He purred and kissed her curls again. They were neatly trimmed, in a cute little triangle, pointing down, and he suddenly felt very jolly. Was her fanny giving directions in a passive aggressive way just like the rest of her? "Has anyone ever gone down on you?" The curls were bright red and very, very soft. Her skin smelled of lilacs too, and he placed couple more feathery kisses moving closer to the clit.

"Um..." He wasn't sure she even understood what he asked. "No..." Apparently she did. He gently ran a flat tongue over the little bundle of nerves, and she whimpered.

"And how far have you ever gone with a bloke?" He had to talk between kisses, but seriously, he had a growing suspicion that he had previously dramatically overestimated her experience.

"Um… Not that far..." He drew a tight circle over her clit with his tongue, keeping it soft and tender, that was her first time, and she throatily moaned.

"And a chick?"

"Neither… Either… What?..." Suddenly her hand lay on his head, and she shyly pushed him to her fanny. Oh, bossy much? He chuckled and covered her with his mouth.

Slowly. Gently. But steadily. It was working wonders for her apparently, because she was now moaning very, very loudly, and shifting between her feet, like in a small dance, trying to achieve friction in some specific places. He complied, shifted, and sucked her clit into her mouth. His hands were stroking her thighs, thumbs brushing her hipbones, and not that before he hadn't enjoyed it, it was fun with some chicks, but that was brill!

She was cool, and fresh, but she reacted like a Silver Sparkling Snake from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She hissed, then heated up with an astonishing speed, and then it was fireworks! She started rubbing herself onto him, and then suddenly she jerked one of her legs, and it got stuck in her knickers, and he chuckled into her skin, stopping his enthusiastic efforts for a second, peppering little kisses on her hip, which gained him very dischuffed whining, and he pulled the knickers from one tiny foot, and fuck it, this was an adorable ankle! He grabbed one and lifted it, and he did guess right, she was trying to put her leg on his shoulder, and he drew a forceful circle with his tongue over her fanny, she was open in front of him now, and then again and again, he was losing control and enjoying it way too much, and he stuck his tongue into her, tasting her, and she wailed and came.

She was breathing loudly, each exhale coming out of her with a tiny little mewl at the end, and then she started sloping down. He quickly unwrapped her leg from his shoulder, and bless his quick Quidditch reactions, he caught her just before she hit the ground slumping bonelessly. He picked her up under her arms, sat down and arranged her on his lap. She curled into a ball and pushed her nose into his neck. He was glad she wasn't behaving as if nothing really happened, or as if he basically just did his job. Her small hand lay on his chest, and she started stroking him through the tee. It felt so nice, and she was nuzzling his neck, that he ignored the deafening hollering of his inner voice proclaiming that that was not how a shag with no strings attached looked like.


	18. Chapter 18

"That was..." She cleared her throat, "Nice." Was she supposed to say something specific? She felt she should have, but again, she had never been in this position. "Thank you?"

He chuckled, a low warm rumble under her hand splayed on his chest, and she stirred in his arms. She wanted to cuddle, that was bloody horrible. She felt floppy, sleepy and wanted to kiss his neck. Alarm, alarm, what an aggro! Was she supposed to shag him now? She was so wound up before, and she thought she could have gone through with it, but at the moment the idea seemed shit scary. And also she didn't want to move, she just wanted to sit like this. He smelled nice, bugger, he did, and he was so warm, and she suddenly wanted to cry. If only she had a right to touch him, were she his girlfriend… She jerked. Fuck, fuckety fucking fuck, are you a bloody moron, Wren? Snap out of it!

She started slowly moving away from him gathering her courage to ask where they were going from there, and he wasn't keeping her, so she was clumsily sliding on the floor, when she realised her knickers were around her ankle. Bloody fuck, what had she done?! He was giving her a cold studying stare. Oh, so bloody awkward!

"Um… So?" She cleared her throat again, and suddenly tears rolled on her eyes. Shut it, shut it, Leary, just stop it.

"Regrets already, Leary?" His tone was sarcastic, and thank you, Durinson! That was exactly what she needed to get back to normal. No chickflick moments! She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. You had done it to yourself, Leary, you dragged him here yourself, so now pick up your arse from the floor, and bash on! She sat up and picked up her knickers from around her ankle. She pulled the skirt down and clenched the smalls in her hand.

"No," she was glad to notice her voice wasn't shaking, "No regrets. That was ace. Should we go on?" She jerked her chin up, and suddenly he guffawed.

"Let's go to sleep, Leary, it's late, and you are flagging. Are you always sleepy after you come?" He had a slightly interested expression on his face, as if asking about some curious plant in Professor Longbottom's class, and she blushed headily. She just couldn't find her footing in this situation. He just got her off, and now he was sitting on the floor relaxed, one long arm on a bent knee, and she stared at the large hand, long fingers and beautiful wrist. He had such wonderful hands, and she felt like crying again, what the fuck?!

First she went mental and pretty much offered herself to him, then he snogged her, her common sense went down the loo, then he was nice and made her laugh, and then she had her first oral sex, and now he was… nice again. Chummy and even, as if they had bonded over common school interests. She had no fuckng idea what was going on in her life.

Her brain had only one solution for this. Doctor Who approach. Basically, run. She clumsily scampered, got up, and then she swayed. Her knees were jelly. He didn't move a muscle. She'd expect him to at least lift his hand to help her, but he was sitting with a completely chill face. She was too knackered to get cheesed off. A sudden terrifying thought came.

"Blimey, could someone hear us?" She looked at him, and he smirked.

"There are so many silencing and warding spells on this bathroom, that even McGonagall would have trouble getting in. Prefects have been using this bathroom for shagging for ages."

"And the ghosts?" She felt suddenly nauseated. Oh fuck, some ghost could seen her with her knickers on the floor, while Durinson... OK, not thinking about it, Leary, not thinking of him on his knees, and his tongue… Shut up, shut up, shut up, brain! Not the time for your photographic memory, Wren!

"There is an agreement between students and spirits that they don't come here. Prefects actually have a priority hierarchy of who can use it, we put ties on the handle, and depending on the year students have their own turns to use it, unless someone higher in the food chain needs it of course," his tone was mundane, and she felt sharp disgust and shame, but then something caught her eye. He seemed complete relaxed, not flaunting it, nor being embarrassed by it, but there was this slight tension in the corners of his lips. It was time to admit, she had studied him well. Bloody hell, all she'd been doing recently was studying his smallest facial expressions. Stupid, stupid Wren. Gormless bint.

She knelt in front of him, he tensed, although tried to hide it, and she spoke clearly into his eyes, "I have asked you to come here with me myself. If you are trying to impress me with your nonchalance regarding shag, then you are failing. I know you can't keep it in your pants, and honestly I'm glad. That was the biggest orgasm I have ever had, and I bet the real shag will be ace. So let's just agree on the time of the next meeting and go to bed. You are right, I'm narked." His face stayed unwavered, but something changed in his eyes.

He grabbed the back of her head again and pulled her into a snog. She tasted herself on him, and somehow that wasn't manky. She immediately heated up, oh so bloody embarrassing! And wrapped her arms around his neck, and even moaned a bit. She just couldn't help it!

He lightly pushed her away from him, "OK, bed, Leary, or you will be rudely bonked right here on the floor." She blinked several times, his face was close, and his pupils were black and giant. She did a bunk. By the door she quickly turned around, he hadn't moved a bit.

"I will have time Wednesday night. Should I just come here?" Her voice was shaking, and he smiled slightly.

"Tomorrow is a night like any other, Leary. And no classes the day after." She successfully suppressed a squeak that decided to burst out of her. "Midnight?" He was completely sodding nonchalant.

She nodded and rushed out. Not questioning or thinking anything over at the mo, Leary. Shower, bed, definitely not thinking about his lips on your fanny. Shite.

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><p>The next day she was eating her breakfast, keeping her eyes strictly on the plate, occasionally smiling to those who would congratulate her on the great do. And definitely not looking at Slytherin table. She realised she needed to chill when she heard her teeth chattering on her tea cup.<p>

If she went tonight, she'd be shaking so hard he'd send her away. Unless he was into vibrators. And if she didn't go, he'd win. She wasn't sure what game they were playing and what sort of competition it was, but she knew one thing for sure. Right now the Golden Snitch was closer to her than to him, she had the advantage. She had more balls, so to say. She approached him, she was hard and tough. If she bailed, he'd win.

"So, Wren, my darling," Thea plopped on the bench near her, and Wren's teeth scraped on the porcelain. "I see you slept well and congratulations on last night!" Panic, panic, panic! Wren pretended to be engaged with drinking from an empty cup. "And now, Hogsmeade, you and I, chicks only, no grotty males." Wren emitted a weak "uh-huh" and let Thea drag her out of the Great Hall. After all, anything was better than thinking of his cock inside her. Fuck.

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><p>They were standing in the Honeydukes, Thea was an incorrigible sweet tooth, when the bell above the door rang, and Wren felt like ending herself in by sticking a Sugar Quill into her eye.<p>

Durinson sauntered in with the whole clique, the scary looking Fundinson, a permanent snarl frozen on his face, the ginger Gloin bloke, the biggest pureblood tosser there was there, and the B Brothers. They were chatting amicably, and Wren twirled on her heels, turning her back to him, her heart beating in her throat. She was considering hiding behind the shelf with Pepper Imps when she caught Thea's narrowed eyes on herself.

"Leary... " Thea drew out, and Wren decided, sod it. She grabbed her friend's sleeve and pulled her to the floor. They scooted, and Thea hissed, "If you don't give me a very good reason why I'm hiding from Thorin bloody Durinson behind sweets, I'll get up and tell him where your sweet little arse is." Thea was not to be joked with. Wren clenched her teeth and prayed to all deities possible.

"I shagged him last night," Wren really had nothing to lose. Thea stared at her aghast, a bag of Toothflossing Stringmints slid out of her hands on the floor. "Well, technically he did me..." Wren's cheeks were starting to hurt from the flaming blush. "I mean..."

"I get it," Thea's voice was squeaky. Wren shushed her. Thea grabbed her shoudler and hissed, "Are you out of your bloody mind, Leary?"

"Can we discuss it later?" Wren pleaded, "Let's just sneak out, and I promise I'll tell you everything..."

"Please do, Leary, do not spare any details," Durinson's voice above her made her squeak loudly. She jerked and hit the back of her head to the shelf. It bloody hurt, and she whimpered. Fuck, fuckety fuck. He stretched his hand to her, "Need any help, love?" His tone was so chuffed that she wondered how much Coconut Dynamite one needed to consume for their head to explode and put them out of misery.

"Um..." She put her fingers into his palm, and he pulled her up. And into himself. Apparently one didn't need Coconut Dynamite, a sniff of his cologne and the fresh spicy fragrance of his skin was enough. A mental equivalent of _Bombarda Maxima _exploded in her head, and her knees buckled. He supported her, and she saw a wide mocking grin on his face. Bloody hell, there was no way that could get more embarrassing!

"Miss Martin, Miss Leary, gentlemen," Professor McGonagall's voice carried across the shop, and Wren groaned. She was pressed into Thorin bloody Durinson, pretty much no air between their bodies, and he was smiling to her, and knowing Wren's luck it looked like they were on the verge of snogging and not locked in a death stare contest.

"Good day, Professor," Durinson's voice was indeed chuffed, he turned to McGonagall, not putting any more bloody distance between himself and Wren, and Wren started looking for a Sugar Quill with her eyes. Surely, they were hard enough to enter her brain matter through her eye. "Lovely weather today, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, Mister Durinson," McGonagall gave them a measuring look, up and down, and then again up, and her cold eyes met Wren's. All Wren could do was scream internally. Loudly. In Gaelic. She knew more swears in Gaelic. "See you in Monday in my office, Miss Leary." Wren's squeak, the only response she could manage, could be interpreted any way, but since everything today was as arsed up as possible it probably sounded as if she was encouraging McGonagall to sod off and let her snog Durinson in the middle of the sweet shop.

By the time McGonagall regally moved to the shelf with Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, everyone seemed to have recovered from the embarrassment a bit, Durinson's hands were still on her shoulders, his thumbs seemed to be brushing her a bit, and Thea was starting to snort into her fist, Bofur joined her, all Durinson's skins just had to have been present through the whole aggro, and Wren twisted out of Durinson's hands.

She rushed to the exit, but his jolly voiced stopped her in her tracks, "Are we still up for tonight, Leary?" She froze in the doors and slowly turned around. One of the black brows was cocked up sardonically, lips twisted in a derisive smirk, and she saw red.

The problem was Wren had... a limit. It was very, very hard to reach, but once it was reached… She had known of course when she was coming to Hogwarts that it would be an aggro, that there would be humiliation, and too much attention, and not fitting again, but at that moment, in the middle of the sweet shop, under the mocking stare of an underage fucking Casanova, Wren Leary had achieved satori. And stopped giving shit.

She marched across the floor, and very much possible there were tongues of flame dancing around her head, and she grabbed his bloody posh cashmere sweater on his chest and jerked him down to her face.

"Listen to me, wanker." Her voice was that very hiss she would produce in her animal form, "I might have agreed to shag you, but that is as far as it gets, do you hear me? No more humiliating me around the school, no more 'Leary treatment,' no more making me look like a gormless cow. If I find out you talk about me disrespectfully or do not defend me when someone else does, I will take a picture of your cock in its floppiest state and will post it around the school. And also, I am very good at _Glacius_ charm. Do you think your bollocks would enjoy being frozen off? So, téigh trasna ort féin." It felt good to speak her native language again, even though he probably didn't understand that she just suggested he fucked himself.

She pushed him away with disgusted grimace, turned around and walked out of the shop, dead silence behind her.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Just as I said in my other fics, I apologise for disappearing, my darling readers, but I was taking a trip to watch **_**The Battle of the Five Armies**_** with my wonderful friend, RagdollPrincess. I'm back and am industriously working on updates for my stories. Thank you for reading and especially for reviewing ;)**

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><p>Thea was staring at the redhead in shock, "You are bloody mental!"<p>

"Why?" Wren gave her a dischuffed look over the top of an open book in her hands. Thea noticed Wren hadn't turned the page in the last ten minutes. They were sitting on their customary table in the library, Auggie and Bilbo still hadn't returned from Hogsmeade. "I'm approaching it the way you do. It's just a shag. What's the better way to solve this problem than go to the biggest slag in the school? He knows what he is doing, and it's already obvious he is going to be… considerate. I mean after what he did..." Wren's face was so red as if she were a toadstool she'd be used in the Girding Potion.

"OK, chick," Thea pushed away the book she was flipping through looking for the Shrinking Solution ingredients and gave the redhead a look over. Wren was faring her usual racoon make-up, smoky eyes and lots of mascara, not too much, Thea would say, but a wee bit edgy, one of her many baggy cardigans over a plaid shirt and a vest, and an absolutely brill necklace. It was apparently from Afghanistan and Thea had been drooling over it from day one. There were also multiple silver rings, the watch again, loads of bracelets, and the nails were dark blue. There was a giant scarf too, the chick was always cold, and currently Wren Leary looked like a scared Jobberknoll hatchling. That was no tude to go for her first shag with. "Wren, do you even want to shag him? You know me, I'm all for casual bonk but there are several things..."

"I know what you are going to say, Thea," Wren's tone was suddenly firm, and she fixed her constantly sliding glasses. "That I'm not that type of girl, and that I will get all mushy. And if someone finds out I'll be laughed at. Well, tough tits, I'm already being taken piss at twenty four seven. I decided to stop giving shit," Wren pretended to go back to the book.

"Listen, bird, who cares what everyone thinks? It's not about that..." Thea felt helpless, she didn't know how to put it into words, but she knew Wren was making a mistake. "It's not a competitive sport, Wren. You need to… want it. I get it you are ambitious, but it has to be… fun." Thea groaned in exasperation. It was so bloody difficult to explain! She grabbed Wren's book and jerked it down. "I'm not saying you have to like the bloke, but you need to proper want him, or at least the shag..."

"I do," Wren's face was absolutely chill, and Thea felt all at sixes and sevens. She honestly thought Wren was a bit of a mushy type, more like fancying someone and gifting them with her sodding purity. And here she was absolutely bloody nonchalant about popping her cherry with the school stud. She looked like she was bricking it of course but didn't seem to have any misgiving around the mechanics of it. Thea shook her head. After all who was she to interfere? Not Leary's mum for sure.

They went back to their books, and then Thea heard Wren's little voice from behind the volume. "Will it hurt?"

Thea dropped the book and looked at her friend. There were feverish spots on Wren's cheeks and she was chewing at her red bottom lip staring at a page with unseeing eyes. Thea sighed.

"OK, Leary, come with me," she got up and pulled at Wren's sleeve. "I'll show you a couple spells in the loo, maybe you'll get through it better than I did." Thea scrunched her nose from the manky memories of her first time. Leary obediently plodded after her, poor bird.

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><p>Wren sneaked out of the dormitory just before ten and quickly walked through passages. She decided that if she didn't want to be caught she needed to get to the bathroom before the students went to their rooms and just wait there. She was ready to come in the prefect bathroom, when her hand on the door bumped into a tie wrapped around the handle. She felt sharply nauseated. She remembered Durinson's nonchalant mentioning of the priority list for shag in there. Someone was there, and she was basically in a queue. She made a step back, feeling like she'd vomit in three seconds if she didn't get her arse away from it, when suddenly the door opened a crack and a long arm sneaked out of it. A large hand grabbed her sweater, she squeaked and got pulled inside.<p>

"You are early, Leary," Durinson's voice was laughing, and she realised she was covering her face with her hands. She was both embarrassed, and not wanting to see anything. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was shagging some chick there, and she was the next course. Wanker. "But I reckoned you might decide to come before the after hours. I have something for you for the next time if it ever happens, so that you don't trigger the curfew spells." His tone was chuffed, and she was still hiding. "Leary?"

She slowly lowered her hands without opening her eyes. She didn't feel the presence of another person in the room but then she thought maybe he had just finished, and then her mind swirled, and she imagined the mess, and some vague aftermath of a shag, how would she know, right? And she made a grotty gurgling noise and rushed by him into a booth. She only just managed to fall on her knees in front of a loo when heaving started. Tears burst out as well, she was so fucking humiliated! She sobbed, the sound mixed up with manky hiccups she had, and she bawled.

Suddenly a pair of warm hands lay at the back of her neck and Durinson picked up her hair. He gathered it in a ponytail and holding it with one hand he started gently stroking her back with another.

"It's OK, Leary. OK, just breathe," his voice was soft and warm, and she cried harder. She just had to arse it all up. She was winning, and then this… He kept on rubbing her back, and then like the stupidest, mankiest moron she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face in his neck. He was the source of her aggro! What was she bloody thinking?! But his voice was velvet, and he was warm, and she was so bloody tired of how painful and harsh everything was, and she had no one to talk to, and all this year was just humiliation and one drama after another. She was crying, and he was pressing his lips to her temple and gently rocking her from side to side, his warm palm on her back between shoulder blades stroking soothingly.

They sat like that for a bit, and she suddenly felt mortified. She'd have to move now, say something, explain her meltdown, address the fact that she almost threw up, and he held her hair, and the reason for her freak out was still there. He had potentially just finished shagging someone. No, no, not thinking about it, she felt nausea rising again.

"How are you doing, Leary?" Oh he just had to be so bloody tender.

"I'm OK," she fucking didn't sound this way. Her nose was stuffed and voice disgustingly nasal, and she could imagine that she looked like a rabbit with hay fever at the moment, "Sorry about that, I think I ate something wrong..."

"Uh-huh," his tone clearly signified he believed her shite, and she sniffed into his neck. He smelled nice, god, he smelled so good. The cologne, and his skin, and the luscious hair brushed her nose, and he was scorching and firm under her hands, and the soft jumper, and she wondered what he looked like without it. Whom was she kidding, there was no way that was going to continue in that direction. "You are giving me a bloody complex, Leary. I honestly have never considered the idea of a shag with me vomit inducing." She moved away and saw his laughing eyes. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

"It's not you… I just..."

"You're bricking it, Leary. Did you come here to stick it up to me? You are failing..." His voice was sing-song, and she stared at him. Was he trying to cheer her up? Among other hundred things she knew were wrong with her, the problem with Wren was that she was a bloody blabberer. Her noggin would conk out and then that would happen.

"Were you shagging someone here before I came?" Her voice was squeaky, and she decided she'd end herself in with a _Deprimo _as soon as she managed to escape this bathroom. For that she'd have to untangle out of his arms. He seemed to be everywhere, like a bloody octopus. At the moment his fingers were softly brushing her forearm, and if she were able to ignore everything else, she'd purr, it was bloody orgasmic. On the other hand, she was currently in the mankiest situation in her life, so maybe she shouldn't concentrate on his hands.

"Well, thank you for this compliment to my prowess, Leary, but no, I was saving myself for you." He was properly taking a piss out of her, and she fucking deserved it. Stupid, stupid cow. "Why?"

"You are here early, and there was the tie..." She mumbled, cheeks burning, and he suddenly guffawed.

"You didn't see, did you? You rushed to empty your kitten stomach so fast you didn't see."

"Well, first of all, I didn't end up vomiting!" Her tone was full of indignation, and he started laughing harder, "And didn't see what?"

He stretched his long arm and pushed the booth door open, and she finally had a look at the bathroom. There were candles, everywhere, on every bloody surface. Little white candles, merry lights dancing, and then there was a bed. Well, it was a mattress on the floor, but it was large and round, and thick, and there were pillows and cushions, and duvets and quilts, and all together it looked like a nest.

"Casual bonk or not, there is no need to be uncivilised," there was something iffy about his seemingly mocking voice, and she whipped her head and stared at him. And suddenly she realised he was bricking it too. He looked so bleeding uncomfortable! Bashful! There were red spots on his cheekbones, and he was clenching his jaw.

"Is that for me?" What a daft question, are you thick, Leary?

"No, it's for the two bints I shagged there in the last hour," he bit back and she looked at his dischuffed face, "And the other three that will come after you. So chivvy along, Leary! I have things to do..." She pressed her mouth to his not letting him continue his growling. He looked so pissed off! It was adorable!

He grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head, and she moaned into his mouth. She had had some experience in copping off, but the bloke was a wizard! And yes, she bloody understood the irony.

She realised she was grinding her pelvis into him, making some daft mewling noises from the sensation of his mouth on her neck, when he muttered, "Why are we on the floor near a loo when we have a nice skein of thread?"

"How are you all posh one day and all this chav talk the next?" His mouth froze on her jaw, and she heard a chuckle. She really needed to learn to control her bloody gob.

"You bring out the worst in me, Leary. And I'm just used to it with the B Brothers, and I really didn't need to think about them at the mo." He was chuckling into her skin, and then quickly nipped her ear. "Thank you for killing off my wood."

"I think everything is fine with your wood." She blushed like a daft cow when she was pronouncing it, but it was true. She could feel it through the two layers of denim, and she'd lie if she said that wasn't the scariest bloody thing in her life! He suddenly gave her a wide smile.

"There is no bloody logic in you, Leary. You are like a _Confundo _charm, you hit to the back of the head and the noggin is in fog. I just can't suss you out." He gave her a chuffed studying look, and she felt flattered like the idiot that she was. "Common, let's get you to the execution site." He softly pushed her off his lap and she got up swaying slightly.

He picked up her hand and led her to the mattress. The jitters started again. Her mind went, 'fuck, the bed, a horizontal surface, lying down, moving, clothes, the bra, the content of his pants, a cock, a vagina, the contraception spell failure rate, pain, blood, his hands, his chest, her hips, kissing him, touching, his beautiful hips, her skinny arse,' and a new wave of hyperventilation was coming, and then suddenly he leaned in, grabbed her, and snogged her senseless. The world swirled around, her head filled with some sort of fanfare, and she arched into him. He cut her down under knees, and she almost didn't notice. He was suddenly between her legs, and she thought that was what she had been craving from the start. He was heavy, and she pushed her hands under his jumper. His sides were hot and smooth and were moving under her palms in deep quick breaths, and he jerked.

"Sorry, cold hands..." She mumbled and then his hand slid under her tee and covered her left tit, and she whimpered.

"Belt it, Leary. The oversized brain of yours is the worst thing right now," he shifted and suddenly his open mouth was pressed to her stomach. She squeaked, and he bit into her skin suddenly.

"I am..."

"Belt it," he repeated and pushed his hand under her bra. The fingers brushed her nipple, and she had never liked boob action, and she suddenly wanted to ask him to put the second one on the other boob, but quickly changed her mind because he was rubbing her hipbone with his thumb, and her knickers went wet, and she almost didn't notice how he unbuttoned her denim. He was drawing some patterns on her stomach with his lips and tongue, and she twisted from under his hands, he didn't expect it, and she was on top and jerked off her tee.

Oh she so liked that face! Lips swollen, slightly open, giant pupils, hair scattered on the pillows, Thorin Durinson was served to her consumption, and something clicked in her head. Oh she was going to have all that to herself, and everything else could sod off!


	20. Chapter 20

She was sitting on him and had, let's be honest, a very predatorial look. Her mental orange curls escaped the braid she came with, the cheeks were flushed, eyes shiny, he just bloody couldn't understand the chick. One moment she was honking from the thought of shagging him, and now she was straddling him, pulling off her tee, grinding her pelvis to his wood, and thank you very fucking much, it didn't need any more encouragement. The tee flew aside, and bloody hell, again with the bra! Red, lacy, bright on her pale skin! He gently stroked her sides. She had amazing skin, soft, he covered her small tits and brushed this thumbs to the perky nipples. She made a barmy noise somewhere inside her ickle body, sounded like purring, and slid her hands under the hem of his jumper. He rose a bit to help her pull it off.

"God, you are majestic..." She murmured and started running her hands on his chest. He knew that about her by then, there was some dam in her noggin that would conk out and hello, verbal inconsistence. Not that he minded, and her little hands on him felt ace. He quickly unbuttoned her denim, and yes, the knickers matched. He pushed his thumb under the waist, behind a little lace triangle and brushed her soft curls. She moaned loudly, and her fanny pressed into his cock harder. The two layers of denim were properly in the way now.

"Leary, we need to undress for that, you know." She looked at him, pupils flooding the odd eyes, and nodded. She didn't seem bricking it any more, the lips were red, and he slightly rose and grabbed the back of her head, and blimey, these curls ran so fine between his fingers. She eagerly stuck her tongue in his mouth, her fingers dug into his shoulders, and it was becoming properly painful to stay in his kecks. "You can stay up there and do it yourself, the control freak as you are," he decided she was capable of processing information even in her bladdered state, she was after all a Ravenclaw, but he had couple seconds of patience left, "Or I can be on top. Either way, clothes go, Leary." Her mouth froze on his, and she tore her mouth off his.

"I can stay on top?" She looked very surprised. It was smashing, and he guffawed.

"Yes, Leary, an erect cock is vertical. You can just sit on it. Like that, don't you?" Why was it so bloody fun and easy with her?! Her nose twitched, her oversized noggin was processing, probably quoting Wizzaepedia to her.

"Can we just go for it, and see how it… unravels?" He started guffawing again, 'unravel', really?! What a kitten!

He rolled her underneath him, a long ago mastered skill, chicks dug it, and sliding his mouth down her stomach, he grabbed the denim and jerked it off her. She was holding her delectable arse in the air for his convenience. How bloody thoughtful!

Fucking hell, the knickers were brill. He placed a firm kiss on her clit through the lace, her hips jumped up, and he wasn't Thorin Durinson, if that moan didn't sound quite demanding. Someone had acquired a taste for nosh? He covered her with his mouth, still through the knickers, and sucked. Wow, that was loud! She pushed her hands in the mad curls and was panting and whining. While continuing his ministrations, he pushed down his denim, there were no pants underneath, and he wore sandshoes, no way in hell he'd be clumsily getting out of socks, when a fit ginger was spread before him. She was almost wailing now, and he slid his index finger from a side under the smalls and right into her. He made sure to stay by the entrance, she was a virgin after all, but that was enough. She hollered and came. He supported the perky buttocks, and fuck him, he had been staring at them in her sodding skinny jeans since day one, and then he slowly put her down, making sure the lace didn't rub at the clit. She needed rest quite obviously, she still looked cross-eyed.

On the other hand, he had a suspicion, and it was being confirmed pretty quickly, that she was quite a randy little thing. She was recovering quickly. He stretched between her legs and kept on rubbing her thighs, kissing occasionally, just to remind her what they were there for. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"Is that how it'll be when we actually shag?" Her voice was hopeful, and he snorted into the silky skin of her inner thigh.

"Not the first time, probably. But I'll do my best."

"Then you may proceed," she deadpanned, and it took him a mo to process it. He was right before, she was like a _Confundum_. Skittish one moment, fit and innuendo pronouncing the other. He moved higher, with licks and nips, and she arched into him. Her arms went around his neck, and he closed his eyes. She tasted so good! The lips were soft, and it felt different. He suppressed the thought, it was a dangerous path, and shut your gob, brain! His cock was supposed to be in charge here, he had a half naked chick under him, and her legs were already around his waist, what the hell, noggin?! No analysis of sodding feelings!

To silence the manky thoughts he lifted his torso above her, pushed one hand under her back, and pulled her up. The moment was mentally perfect, she relaxedly lay on his palm, and she was so titchy he could lift her with one hand, his fingers splayed between her shoulder blades, he quickly unclasped the bra with the second one, and lowered her down. The red lace flew after her _Nirvana_ tee, and he sucked her left tit into her mouth. She made a noise, and it didn't sound chuffed. Oh, not to our liking, Leary? He changed tactics, switched to gentle licks, and brushing his lips to it, and purring ensued. Good, he reminded himself, she needed to be in the mood and very, very randy. It'll hurt less, if any that way.

He pushed the hand under the knickers on her hip, just a thin stripe of lace, and then in a circular movement he stroked the buttock and cupped it. That was an ingenuine maneuver of his design he was very proud of it, the knickers were hitched at his hand and this way they moved and slid off her, it didn't work perfectly with thongs, but she had those ones that had a lace triangle on the arse too, which he actually prefered, and they slipped off properly. She lifted her hips again, while placing a row of little kisses and bites along his jaw. She seemed to enjoy this part.

"Will you have a beard when you grow up?" He really should have been pissed off at her ridiculous blabbering, but he only felt jolly and firmly kissed her.

"Yes, Durinsons are very furry, and belt it, Leary." She smiled to him widely and pushed her hands in his hair.

"I properly fancy your fur!" What was she so sodding happy about? He couldn't stop laughing and feeling daftly happy.

"I properly fancy your fur too, Leary," he needed to get her mind back to the topic at hand, and not gaze like a moron at her copper hair, so he cupped her between her legs and rubbed the heel of his hand to her clit, "Especially this one." She gasped, seemingly in indignation, and he caught her mouth.

Her hands were wandering his back, legs firmly wrapped around his waist, and he aligned their bodies, and was just about to push in, and then suddenly he froze. He couldn't do it! Sod it! Fucking sod it all! Fucking, fucking fuck! He didn't know what it was! The thoughts were jumbled, not a single clear one, just some nagging feeling! Something important, but frightening, something he was in no fucking way allowing himself to think about! It was just a shag! He had done it before, and let's face it, many chicks he shagged were virgins, there were different outcomes, there was blood, sometimes pain, if the spells were wrong…

And then it hit him! He had forgotten about protection! For the first time in his bloody life he forgot about the spells!

He clenched his teeth, trying to stop his body from moving into her, his head was swimming, he had her taste on his lips, she was softly moaning underneath him, he opened his eyes, she had hers open apparently, watching him with wide shining eyes, giant pupils, almost no irises visible, and he rasped out, "Spells… We need…"

"I have… I have all the needed ones on me… Thea showed me..." Her voice was squeaky, and he focused his eyes on her. She didn't look scared, but there was feverish blush on her cheeks, and he tenderly kissed her lips.

"Do you have the numbing one?"

"No," she answered in a small voice, "Thea said it'd make me feel… less..." He barked a hysterical laugh.

"That's the point, Leary."

"I don't want to feel less..." She gave him a defiant look, although the lips were starting to tremble, and fuck him! He was going to make it worthwhile for her!

He kissed her, firmly and deeply, to make her forget that she was supposed to be scared, and how messy it was, and because he knew that that strange little nagging he felt at the back of his head wouldn't go away, and he needed to make it special, if not for her, than for him, and he pressed into her entrance, and kept on going slowly but steadily, kissing her jaw and neck then, looking for the best spot, and finding it, he swirled his tongue on her skin and caught the earlobe between his lips, he knew she liked it, and she was moaning and gasping softly, and there was an obstacle, and he wanted to go slow, and take care of her, but she bucked her hips, and he was fully in. She groaned, arched into him, her head dropped back, her gorgeous pale throat in front of him, and she exhaled, "Thorin..."

He realised that tears were prickling his eyes, and he pressed his face to her neck hiding them. He. Was. Not. Fucking. Going. To… He didn't even know what it was he was fighting, but definitely this… The strange tension in the chest, the mawkish tears, the feeling of her being all his, all kindred, and soft, and warm… And…

She stirred, and his hands tentatively brushed at his back. He exhaled, assuming it was safe to lift his face, and he shifted his hips, but then pressed his temple to hers, just in case he still was behaving like a soppy nutter, and he rocked his hips into her. She moaned, and he whispered into her ear, "Alright, Leary?" And no, bloody hell, he wasn't raspy from emotions! He was squeezed in a just deflorated fanny, she was bloody ickle and tight! That's why!

Suddenly she giggled. He forgot about his aggro and lifted his face to stare at her in shock. She was smiling from ear to ear, and her eyes were brilliant and very, very chuffed. "I'm ace. Really don't see what the big deal is here," she cupped his face and pecked his lips. "And I reckon it's about time you show your prowess, Durinson." If a seventeen year old bloke could lose his hard-on from embarrassment, Thorin would have. Thank gods for the adolescent randiness! She was easier about it than him!

And then he laughed too. Emotions aside, she was a perfect shag. He steadied himself on his elbows and started moving. He went for long and deep thrusts, and it was the bloody right choice. She was whole heartedly approving, judging by her delicious arse rising from the floor, her pelvis meeting him, her short nails digging in his shoulders, and these bloody raspy moans. She was tight and responsive, and his head was spinning, he tasted her skin under the small ear, he nipped the tender neck, kissed the shoulders, the lips, saw her closed eyes, noticed the long lashes, the freckles were mind-blowingly beautiful, and then something exploded in his head...

He was losing control, his hips were moving faster, more forcefully, and she was fine with that as well! Her little heels dug into his jacksie, spurring him, and then he couldn't hold it back anymore, he groaned and came. The brain conked out, everything went white and hot, he didn't remember where he was and what was going on, and then he fell on her.

He was going to make her come! Or at least get her close! He was going to show her how skilled he was and make her shut her snarky gob, and instead he lost all control and just had the acest orgasm in his life. He was panting, and couldn't stop, his forehead pressed to the sheet, her shoulder under his lips, and he kissed it, like the daft, thick, moronic, soppy imbecile that he was.

She was quiet under him, and he needed to move, but his limbs were bloody jelly. And then her small hand started stroking his shoulder. He tensed, that would the perfect moment for a mocking remark, and she would bloody hit him in the weakest spot now. He himself knew he was pathetic, and he clenched his jaw.

"I am glad it was you," her voice was soft, and she shuffled and moved her arms, he couldn't suss what she was doing, but then he felt she pulled a duvet over the two of them. "Thank you..."

There was still a chance she was taking a piss at him, what was there to thank him for? He lifted his face, but her eyes were warm and she was smiling, and he just wanted to kiss her.

And then he remembered it was not that type of shag. And he wasn't supposed to cuddle with her now, and nuzzle her neck like he sodding wanted to, and maybe be even she could curl into him like after that time… Oh fuck it…

He pulled himself together, he was Durinson after all, and smiled to her, hoping it didn't look grotty and plastic like it felt, "You are welcome, Leary." It was her first time, it was her first time, he reminded himself, she didn't know better.

"Can we do it again?" Yep, her dam between the brain and the mouth was still open. She blushed heavily and twitched her nose. He found it adorable and told himself to shut the fuck up. "I mean not right away, but some other day. If you feel like it… I mean..."

"Belt it, Leary," he sounded way too chummy for his own comfort. And he especially thought it was mental to kiss her now like he did, decisively and then playfully. Sodding moron. "I suggest we make it into a constant arrangement. I still need to demonstrate my famous skills to you." She was watching him attentively now, and he continued his fake frolics. "Now that the aggro is out of the way, we still need you to come, screaming my name into the skies, don't we, Leary?" She grinned, and he discreetly breathed out. The bloody moment had passed.

"That sounds good. But I have conditions..." He guffawed. He carefully slid out of her and lay near her on his side.

"Of course you do. Let us hear them then," he sounded very chuffed. Bollocks, he felt chuffed. Now that the hormonal storm in his daft body was going down, and surely those were sodding endorphins or whatever, he was actually finding this experience pretty rad.

She picked up the edge of the duvet and peeked in, probably checking for blood. And then she probably saw his cock, because she quickly dropped the duvet and looked at him. She looked mildly terrified, and he chuckled. What a kitten! His right arm was stretched on the pillow, and she froze indecisively not knowing if she could lie on it. He wasn't helping, wanting to see what she'd do, and she made the usual nervous sniff like sound with her turn up nose and hesitatingly nested on his arm, lying on her side facing him. Her freckled nose was right in front of his face, and he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her closer. Like he had said before, there was no need to be uncivilised. And again if they were comfortable with each other, the future shags would be much more satifying. Her hand got locked between their bodies, and the second one lay on his chest. She shyly stroked the hair on the sternum. There was a lot of it, he wasn't joking when he said Durinsons were furry. It was going to grow all over his chest later. He realised she was utterly distracted. And judging by slightly open lips and giant eyes she liked what she saw. He smirked.

"Conditions, Leary, you had conditions." The amber eyes flew to his face.

"No one should know. And you don't owe me anything, except don't bring any lurgy into this. And be respectful to me outside this room. And at least try to not let others… sully my name." The accent was stronger, she was embarrassed. "I'm not asking to defend my honour, but at least be neutral towards me. It's hard as it is..." Her voice broke, and she frantically blinked several times.

He really didn't want to, but he suddenly thought that yes, it must have been bloody hard for her. A new girl, a celebrity Da, odd looks, odd abilities, he had a suspicion what those classes with McGonagall were all about, and… He tried to stop himself, but the thought came. He had properly made her life into an aggro before.

"Deal, Leary." She met his eyes, and the corners of her red lips curled up. "Shall we shake on it?" He cocked an eyebrow, she blinked couple more times, processing, and then lunged at him. Round two, anybody?


	21. Chapter 21

She pressed into him, arching and pulling him into her, snogging him as if her N.E.W.T.s depended on it, her arms around his neck, and then one leg went around him. Thorin smiled into her lips. What a demanding little thing! He rolled her underneath him, she moaned loudly, and her pins once again wrapped around his waist. His cock was obviously all for it, but thank all deities his bloody hysterics had passed, and it was time to use his sodding head. Not that head. Fuck. Both his heads.

He tore his lips from her greedy hot mouth, she was by then clenching handfuls of his hair in her ickle fists, and rose above her on his knees. Oh that was worth it! Her peepers grew twice as large, and yeah, Leary, don't even try! Of course she was trying to look elsewhere, but… let's face, no one could in this situation. She gulped and then finally met his eyes.

"Am I supposed to…?" She was so obviously bricking it that he smirked and shortly wondered if he could keep his gob shut for couple more minutes to see her panic and squirm, but then he took pity of the poor kitten.

"Oral assignments next time, Leary," she was staring at him, and he gave her a look over. Bloody hell, she was fit. Fuck it, he cared no more, his internal decision was that she was bleeding sexy, odd or not. Radiant skin, flushed and silky, small tits, and the size was brill. "On your stomach, Leary." She frowned but listened. He didn't think she would, but now he was presented with the view of her perky arse, and it was time to admit he was mental when it came to this arse. He leaned in and applied his mouth where it belonged. Kisses, sucks, and nips, he swirled his tongue on it, and she was so bloody loud again! And would you look at that! She was pointedly rubbing her fanny to the sheets, he picked up her legs under the knees and spread. She exhaled loudly, but didn't object. He started moving slowly up her body, kissing and tasting the narrow back, the shoulder blades and then the nape. He gave the back of the neck a few gentle bites, and she suddenly moaned in her throat and the perky backside jumped up pressing into his cock. Oh? That was bloody interesting. He doubled the efforts on the neck, and then put his knees and elbows on the sheets firmly and pressed his cock to her entrance. She arched her back and whined. Someone was in anticipation!

He slid in, and she hissed. She would be very sensitive, and he gave her a jiffy. The skinny shoulders were tense, and there were goosebumps on the skin of her nape, he gently kissed, burying his nose into the hairline, the barmy curls were sweeped on one side, and she suddenly slightly turned her head and rubbed her temple to his nose. That was way too chummy for his comfort, he swallowed with difficulty and rolled his hips into her. She immediately dropped her head and moaned. She was also supporting herself on the elbows, but he didn't expect her to for long. He rose over her, she emitted a raspy groan, and he started shagging her forcefully. Her arms gave in after three thrusts, but she started pushing her arse to meet him after four, the high-pitched wailing started right away.

"Blimey, Leary, you are a screamer!.." His voice was choked, and she responded by shoving her perky buttocks into him even more. He bent his neck, his lips and teeth on her neck, and his hands found hers, fingers intertwining. He was still holding himself under control and listened to her scat singing, and then he found just that one brill angle that made her holler, and he just went for it! She was now chanting something in Gaelic, and then his ickle ginger got her first vaginal crisis.

Her fingers crooked, grasping his painfully, and her bloody "Thorin, Thorin, oh Thorin..." made him move again, forgetting everything, his lips pressed to her skin, all his body burning, and fuck, fuck, fuck!.. He came, and apparently he could be loud too, and he fell on her panting and sobbing. Oh for fuck sake he was properly pathetic.

* * *

><p>"You are heavy..." She didn't seem dischuffed, that was more of a purr than a complain. He wiped his sweaty forehead to the sheet near her head and rolled off her with a groan. She stayed on her stomach, eyes closed, little curls stuck to her sweaty temple. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the ace buzzing in his whole body, heart drumming under his hands on the chest. And then he saw she was asleep.<p>

He should have woken her up, they needed to clean up here and return to their dormitories, but he just lay there watching her sleeping face. The lashes were long, there was no make-up on her, and suddenly something clenched in his chest. It actually properly hurt to look at her. He stretched his hand and moved a few ginger curls off her face. The jawline was delicate, and he clenched his teeth.

* * *

><p>"Wake up, Leary," he kept his voice soft, not to freak her out. He cleaned up the candles and got dressed, and she was still sleeping. He carefully touched her shoulder, she made some sniffly nose and rolled into him, nuzzling his chest.<p>

One arm went around his waist, he tried to move away, and she mumbled into him, "You're warm…"

"Leary, you need to wake up… It's past two, you need to return to your room." The slanted eyes flew open, and she jerked away from him. The cheeks immediately started burning, and then she slowly slid the leg off him that she managed to wrap around him.

"Past two? Oh blimey, did I fall asleep? I always do after..." She mumbled something there, probably referring to her alone times. That was an interesting topic, but probably it had to be saved for the next time. He handed her her clobber, and she dove under the duvet and started grubbing there, trying not to show any of her naked parts, which was hilarious and once again looked like a cat rummaging under blankets.

"Are you an animagus, Leary?" She sharply sat up under there, and even the duvet hill she was at the mo had a shocked expression. He was smiling smugly.

"Yes..." Her answer from under there was squeaky, and he pushed his hand under the duvet and grabbed what turned out to be a knee. Another squeak followed. He decided he'd allow himself one small thing and rubbed the skin with his thumb.

"And what's your animal form?" He thought he knew an answer.

"A Kneazle." His guess was close enough. She made a few spasmodic movements, a tee was on probably, and she pushed the duvet off. The mental hair stood up in a dandelion around her noggin. "It's skinny, the fur is obviously a manky orange colour, and has a long tail with a brush. Basically, I am a minger of a cat in my animal form. Who'd reckon?" She was hiding behind her usual self-deprecatory sarcasm. Like that time that she said he only wanted to shag her because she was new, and that she knew she was a minger. She didn't seem like a minger to him now. If ever.

He lay on his back and studied her face. She looked pissed off and was busy pulling on her denim, still under the duvet. He got her off with his mouth before, he did have a good look, but she was now hiding. He told his mawkish noggin to shut the fuck up, that was not endearing! She finally got up and pushed her feet into the flats.

"Do you need me to help with the… bed?"

"I'm in a generous mood, Leary, go get your kip. I'll finish here," he languishly waved his hand in the air, and she awkwardly shifted between her feet. Probably wondering what the protocol was for this situation. Thorin never shagged one chick twice, except for his sort of girlfriend, but that was a different story. But again Leary didn't know, and she looked at him hoping for some guidance. "How about when you are in the mood for more you send me a note, and vice versus? And we will make an appointment," he was taking a piss to silence the nagging feeling. She took a step back from him, now that the shag was over she went back to her skittish self, and he looked away from her. He didn't want to see her like that, he wanted his fiery ginger back. And then he reminded the thick fucking nutter that he was that there was no 'his ginger.' She just chose him because he knew what he was doing with his pecker.

"Um… Alright then..." She was probably backing up to the door, he didn't want to watch it. "Goodnight."

"Cheers, Leary," he kept his tone nonchalant, and the door opened and closed. He rolled on his stomach and buried his nose in the pillows. It smelled like her lilac perfume, and he groaned. Stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking moron…

* * *

><p>He didn't see her on Sunday, and then the week started, and it was as if nothing happened. She was paired with Rivendell in Herbology again, she laughed with Mirkwood in Potions, and once again aced her Charms. He caught Thea Martin's eyes on himself couple times, she looked tense but not pissed off, so he assumed the ginger didn't complain, but on the other hand who gave a shit? He turned away from their table in the Great Hall and went back to his scroll.<p>

It was Thursday, and he was on his way to the pitch for Quidditch practise when he bumped in some third year kid on his way. The sprog was standing in the middle of the passage, and Thorin snarled something insulting to him and head on, when something scraped at his mind, and he turned around. The kid was from Hufflepuff and looked way too pale. A dux and the King of his House would walk on, but the future healer Thorin Durinson didn't.

He came up to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. The bairn jerked and raised his eyes at Thorin. They were hollow and red rimmed.

"Are you alright, kid?" Thorin knew the boy wasn't.

"I'm fine, just..." He twisted his shoulder from under Thorin's hand. "I'm fine..." That didn't sound right.

"Your surname, sir," Thorin went for his prefect tone, and the boy jolted.

"Abbott, sir, William Abbott." The colour returned to the kid's cheeks, this time from embarrassment, and Thorin gave him another studying look. Something was very woolly about the bairn, but Thorin had no right to detain him.

"OK, Abbott, off you pop." The boy rushed away, Thorin picked up his broom firmer, but the grotty nagging feeling didn't go away.

After practice he marched to the Hospital Wing. He was overstepping all possible boundaries, but the memories from September were still fresh. The Matron, or Mrs. Longbottom, depending on how one looked at it, was sitting at her desk scribbling something.

"Oh, Durinson," she smiled to him widely, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He told her of the boy, he was her nephew after all, and Hannah Longbottom, nee Abbott frowned.

"He was just sort of… off," Thorin couldn't explain any better, "I mean I'm no healer, but there was just this iffy feeling about him." Thorin felt embarrassed, but thank Merlin, the Matron didn't tell him to sod off and nodded.

"I'll keep an eye on him. This year is just odd," the Matron rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration, "First the Entwhistle girl… And the test results are coming back now, and many students seem to be overstressed. We've never had anything like that. Alright, Durinson, thank you for letting me know. Common, run, you'll be late for dinner."

* * *

><p>The week went on the same way, he was getting tired of trying to not look for her orange head in the crowd, when an excuse to talk to her popped up. To be precise, it landed on his stomach in the common room, again in the shape of the bodies of his nephews who demanded the report on the upcoming fair in Hogsmeade. He shook the little buggers off and marched into the library. Where else would she be, right?<p>

She was studying at a table, but this time it wasn't with Martin or Anderson, and not even Baggins. Thranduil Mirkwood was fucking reposing in a chair, one leg thrown over another, babbling some shite in his manky nasal voice, lazily waving his pale spider like fingers in the air, and she was listening to him as if he were sharing the secrets of the bloody universe with her. Her hair was in a bun, a quill sticking out of it, and she kept on blowing one curl off her face, and then the prick had the nerve to shift closer to her, lean over the table and tuck the curl behind her ear. She blushed, and their faces were suddenly so fucking close to each other, that Thorin imagined grabbing the wanker's collar and wiping the library floor with that very ponce face. Thorin cleared his throat, she jerked away from the pale prick, but Mirkwood didn't waver and just slowly turned his face to Thorin, his manky pale blue eyes disdainful. Thorin was trying not to snarl.

"Leary, can I have a word?" She jumped up on her feet and moved to him backing up from Mirkwood.

"I'll be right back," her little ears were burning, "Hold the thought, please." Hold the fucking thought?! What?! The touching her inappropriately and making googly eyes at her thought? Because this thought Thorin could easily clobber out of his manky blonde noggin in a jiffy!

She came up to him, and he gave her a glare down his nose. She was jittery, and he grabbed her upper arm and dragged her in a secluded corner between shelves. She was resisting but not too hard, and he opened his mouth to ask about the fair, when she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. She needed to hop up for that, and now she was pulling him down, he stumbled, and then his arms went around her. He pressed her up and into him so hard, that he squeezed some small squeak out of her, but she only held on to him tighter. They snogged for a few seconds, and then she suddenly let go off him, and because he was busy groping her arse, he wasn't holding her, and her ickle feet hit the floor, and she made a clumsy step away from him.

"Sorry, sorry, I don't know what came over me... I don't even know if it's part of our agreement, but I just... " She was mumbling, her face all red and nose twitching. "I just haven't seen you for a while, and this bloody jumper..." His head was spinning, and what the fuck was it about his jumper? He looked down at himself like a daft moron. It was a jumper like any other, his favourite, it was old and soft.

"I need another pass to the fair," his voice was choked, "I have two nephews, and they both want to go..." He cleared his throat and watched her eyes widen.

"Oh?" She sounded disappointed. Did she sound disappointed? He couldn't tell, he couldn't sodding suss anything, all the blood abandoned his noggin and travelled South. She chewed on her bottom lip and fidgeted with her necklace.

"Um, sure… I'll put them both on the list." He nodded, he had nothing better.

"Thanks." There was a pause, and she was getting visibly more and more panicked. Oh, right, she just snogged him.

"Any plans for tonight, Leary?" She lifted her eyes at him, and her nose twitched again.

"Um, library. And then… sleep. I guess. Everybody needs rest before tomorrow. It's Friday tomorrow, another do, right?" Oh, he forgot. Bloody hell, he seemed to be forgetting everything these days. She had shagged his brains out without meaning to. Or maybe he was just fucking stupid. Probably the latter.

"Oh, I'm not coming." He would but now it looked like he wasn't going to so he said he wasn't going to. Bloody hell, end him in now.

"Oh?" Now, that was definitely disappointment.

"Unless you need me to help you out there again." Now she would definitely tell him to sod off, she wouldn't accept his help…

"Oh… Well, it's up to you… I hope it's good, I worked hard on it, and the posters were an aggro..." Posters, there were posters? What the fuck was wrong with him these days if he apparently missed party posters around the school? Well, there was always the arrogant prick mode he could fall back on in such case. He stepped towards her, she shied away, and he caged her between his arms, her back pressed to the bookshelf.

"Just say it straight, Leary. You want me to come..." She was staring at him with giant peepers, and he leaned in slowly. Her lashes fluttered, lips slightly opened, but he didn't go for them, he leaned in more, and whispers into her ear, brushing his lips to her helix, making her whole ickle body jolt, "...And then you want me to drag you to the prefect bathroom after it and continue what we started on Saturday." She was taking shallow breaths in, and he pressed his mouth to the side of the neck. He swirled the tongue on the heated pale skin, and bloody hell, he missed the taste!

"Yes, please..." Oh? No snarky answers? No kneeing him in the bollocks? No prickly tude? He moved away and caught her mouth. He needed to stop soon though, he gave her his word they wouldn't be found out, and not only someone might have walked in on them, knowing her vocal talents it wasn't wise.

He stepped back, and her knees gave in, and she had to grab the shelf to stay upright. He didn't know how he could still seem chill, probably the years of pretending to be someone he wasn't paid off.

"See you tomorrow evening, Leary."

He turned around and marched away. Now he just needed to figure out the theme of the fucking do. Where were the bloody posters when he needed them?!


	22. Chapter 22

The party was called "Black Ties & White Lace," it was obviously black and white, and formal, and the music was from sixties, which Thea properly approved. After all Sinatra, Martin and Davis Jr. were among the best integrated wizards into the muggle world. The white lace dress she chose was ace, it showed her tits in their best light, and the shoes had little flirty buttons, and finally pumps! Altogether Thea reckoned it was time to up her stakes with Mirkwood, but as soon as she entered the Great Hall it became clear that was not was bloody going on that evening.

Black and white balloons and sparkles were dancing in the air, everything was monochrome, and Leary was wearing a tux. Super skinny trousers, almost leggings, stilettoes, white silky shirt, bowtie and a perfectly cut jacket, her barmy curls in a low bun. Only a twig like her could wear it and look that fit. The rosy cheeks and brilliant eyes were probably what made her look so smashing today, but for once Thea was wrong. She expected the tall figure twirling Leary on the dancefloor to be Durinson. And then she noticed the blond ponytail and those very long legs and narrow hips she'd been bloody drooling over for the last two years.

Mirkwood was a good dancer, that much Thea knew already. With Leary in his arms he looked like "Dancing with Muggles" contestant. Unlike Durinson who was fuming by the wall, who went for a perfect Rat Pack white fancy jacket with black lapels and wide black silk sachet, Mirkwood looked like sex on stick in an impeccable black tux that made him look even longer and if possible even more delicious. OK, she was wrong, Durinson didn't look like he was fuming, he was chatting up some bird from Hufflepuff, but Thea knew better!

She quickly walked up to the drinks table and found Baggins sipping something manky and white from a cup.

"Milk, Baggins?" He twitched and stared at her. She assumed she looked properly cheesed off, she bloody felt like it, and blew some air out.

"It's actually punch, they just charmed it to look that way." He gave her a studying look, and she toppled a cup into herself.

"That's their third dance together," Auggie came up to the table as well, his eyes on Leary and Mirkwood, "People are starting to chinwag."

"Did they come together?" Thea couldn't help but ask. Bugger. She was going to be cool about it.

"With about a minute difference between them. But she fixed his tie already. Twice." That's it, that was definite. Thea gritted her teeth. It was her own fault, she never told Leary to keep her ickle Mick hands off him, but seriously, as much as she liked the chick, she didn't think there was any danger there. "Durinson seems way too calm for that." Auggie was studying the royal arse by the wall.

"There will be bloodshed," Bilbo's calm voice made Thea and Auggie whip their heads and stare at the shortie. "What? Do you think you are the only ones who have peepers?" Thea watched Durinson but he didn't look at the dancefloor a single time. It was going really well for him with the Hufflepuff chick too, she was already stroking his cuff.

Thea decided she was being mental and scanned the Hall for today's treat. She'd need to have a talk with Leary, suss what was what, but before it... Aha, one of the Triple B, Bofur was a good option. No grotty hat today, bless. He was a source of info at the same time, and seriously those were very proper upper arms. She straightened up and marched to him.

* * *

><p>They found a nice little nook, and she had already liberated him of his tie, and the buttons on his shirt followed, and he was still mumbling something into her mouth.<p>

"Seriously, mate, belt it!" She gave him a stare. She was bloody straddling him, and all this generosity was a one time thing, shouldn't he be enjoying it?

"Don't eat my head off, lass. 'M just trying to suss it out. You are going so hard, you'll put the heart crossways in me."

"You are a chatty one, aren't you?" Thea asked, and he grinned from ear to ear. "You do know that it's a girl's prerogative to question it and try to wiggle out of it when the fly is already open?" He looked down at his crotch, and the thick black eyebrows jumped up.

"Whack to ya, I haven't even noticed!" He looked so shocked and chuffed that she suddenly started laughing. He was bloody adorable!

"Magic fingers!" She wiggled them in front of his nose, and he suddenly leaned in and pecked the nearest digit. She jerked the hand back. It stopped looking like a pull at all, that was alarming.

"Listen, I'm not giving out to you, love, and I mean, me gooter is all for it, but I'm a hick and sort of useless like tits on a bull, so why don' cha?" He was looking at her softly, and she pouted.

"Does anybody understand what you are saying?" She drew in a venomous tone, but he still looked properly chuffed.

"All I'm saying you are éirimiúil, smart that is, lots in the noggin, and, lass, you are a qweer bit of skirt..." She gave him a look from under a lifted brow, "Fit, love. You are fit, a beor, as we say it." He pronounced it like 'bee-yo' and somehow she felt flattered. She knew she was all that but it sounded so sincere! Again he was not groping her arse, his large hands were on her hips, and he was sort of rubbing her. It felt, well, nice, and she was softening.

She pushed her fingers into the thick hair curling up a bit at the back of his neck and then twirled one thread around her finger. "Maybe I don't reckon you are useless like tits on a bull..."

She was bloody mental. Five minutes ago that would have been exactly what she would say about him, well, she'd say he was 'fucking duff.' Or even more so, she wouldn't be able to say anything about him, she just picked him randomly out of the crowd, something about Leary mentioning he was 'nice' just scraped at her mind, and she grabbed his lapel and dragged him out. Wide shoulders and bright eyes didn't harm obviously, and now she looked in them. They were of that gorgeous hazel colour, darker edge of the iris, and he was looking at her like she was a goddess. Not a pair of tits and a brill ace, but like she was a Veela and the Triwizard Cup at the same time.

She shifted on his lap. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she suddenly felt an urge to climb off him and fix her dress. Hm, never had happened before. To shut the manky thought she caught his mouth. He wasn't too experienced, but the technique was solid, and then his hands lay on her back. Seriously, still not going for a grope?! She doubled her efforts, he was starting to pant into her mouth, she did know what she was doing with her tongue, and she opened the shirt to see what she was dealing with. Oh right… A Chaser, good muscles, lean body, and there was chest hair already. Again, a Mick, dark hair, they tended to be fleecy. Thea decided she approved, and then he cupped her head and pulled her even closer. Bloody hell, that was hot!

* * *

><p>Her dress was unzipped and pooled at her waist, he was struggling with the clasp of her bra, and somehow even this didn't cheese her off. She laughed and asked if he wanted her to do it. He said he didn't 'have a baldy' what he was doing but then he politely asked her to "ara be whist' which she assumed meant to shut her gob since after that he snogged any sense out of her. He was waggish and easy, and she suddenly didn't want to worry about anything!<p>

And then some noise came from the entrance into their little corner, and he pointed his wand to it and quickly murmured a concealment charm. He was good, whatever he said about himself! A couple of fifth year students that was passing by, pulling at each other clothes, just stumbled further, and he looked at her.

"You know, love, we should bolt. The prefect bathroom is empty tonight, and it's the business. All that room there, and benches, and the bath..." She gave him a fake sceptical look.

"You did a bloody poor job with my bra, do you even need all that room? You might conk out after the first time!" She was teasing him, but somehow they both knew she wasn't mean about it. He suddenly kissed the tip of her nose, and she wrinkled it, pretending she didn't just have a girly moment when she wanted to grab his ears and snog the hell out of him for that.

"Well, me cracker, after the first time me will curl into a ball and will be gurning for an hour. The bench will be ace for that." She sniggered. She imagined him in a fetal position bawling from self-pity. Something told her though that was not where this was going. A seventeen year old, a cock very much hard under her fanny, nah, there would be no 'gurning'.

"Isn't there a priority list for that bathroom?"

"Aye, but it's Durinson's for all night tonight, and he isn't getting any flah. With Leary goozering that ballbag Mirkwood." Thea cringed, she didn't need the reminder, and then she stopped in her tracks.

"He was chatting up some chick in the hall when we were leaving!" Bofur suddenly laughed and gave her a condescending male look. She should have felt furious, but somehow this machismo made her swoon a bit. Just a tinsy wee bit, but it did. Bugger, that was disturbing. What was wrong with her tonight?

"Blarney, love, he is not stalling with any but our ickle ginger dote. He is bullin now, probably will puck the blond tool in the gob by the time we get to the bathroom." Thea remembered Bilbo's prediction of bloodshed.

She climbed off Bofur's lap and started fixing her dress. He was still sitting gaping at her like a pillock. Blimey, the peepers were gorgeous!

"Well?" She gave him an haughty look, "Are you coming or not?" Yeah, it was like offering a Saint-Bernard puppy a walk.

* * *

><p>Thea felt pissed off. The bloody bathroom was that close, but they just had to pass the Great Hall and hear some loud argy-bargy from inside. Seriously, did the plonker not understand that was his one and only chance for the heaven on earth that was the access to her fanny and he was bodging it up?! And yet the pillock pulled her arm and just had to look inside.<p>

And then just had to come in! Leaving her behind like a rubbish forgotten toy?! She marched after hm, planning to bite his sodding head off, and froze at the doors. His brother, Bombur was it, was yelling in the center of the Hall, swinging a bottle of fire whiskey in his hand, and how the hell did he manage to bring it in with all the spells on the doors?

"You don't understand!" Thea suddenly thought she had never actually paid attention to his voice before, he hardly even spoke except in classes to think of it, "Life hurts! It is all sodding shite!"

Bofur rushed to him, students were murmuring, the music was somehow off, and Thea saw Bombur push his brothers away from him. He was yelling some other rubbish as well, and then the anti-booze spell rang, there would be Professors rushing in now, students started moving in agitation, and then Bombur propelled the bottle into the wall.

"Keep on pretending there is any point in this fucking life! Like spaced out Jobberknolls! Just keep pretending!"

Bofur grabbed his arm, and then Bombur's fist met his face with manky sound. Thea jerked, and there was more loud screaming, some argy-bargy, and then she saw Durinson step to the fat ginger. He was couple heads taller than him, and Thea imagined another punch, this time into Bombur's round face that was twisted into a mental grimace, and then Durinson barked something, raspy and authoritative, and grabbed the fattie's shoulders. He lowered his face, and Thea's spine tingled from the intense stare of Durinson's blue eyes. And then something snapped, Thea could almost feel some tension dissipate, and Bombur sagged on the floor.

The doors opened, and McGonagall and couple more Professors rushed inside. Bombur was still sitting on the floor, his eyes dull now, and Leary rushed to him, Thea cringed from seeing Mirkwood follow her. People were helping Bombur get up, some explanations followed, the Triple B were taken probably to McGonagall's office, Professor Flitwick was sending everyone to their dormitories.

Suddenly Thea was alone, Leary and Mirkwood went after the Professors, she probably needed to explain, she was in charge after all, he followed her like a pup on a leash, Auggie was nowhere to be seen, and she knew Bilbo had left long ago, probably reading in the common room. Thea felt an unfamiliar manky desire to bawl. Bofur didn't even look at her once before leaving.

* * *

><p>Thea didn't fancy going to the common room, it would be full of blabbering students, everyone was buzzing after the interrupted do, it was still early, and now they would just be sitting there chinwagging, and discussing every sodding detail. She slipped away and went to the prefect bathroom. There was no tie on the door, and she walked in and sat on the very bench the grotty Mick was going to be gurning on. She shook off her pumps and rubbed the soils of her feet. Nothing seemed to go well this evening, and she wondered whether the fat ginger was right, life did fucking hurt. On the other hand, it was the last year, they would come out of here in a few months, and proper life would start, with jobs and stuff.<p>

Thea came up to a mirror on the wall and looked at herself. These were mental thoughts, she was never the one to question life. But she also wasn't the one to get all mushy about a bloke, and yet she sort of did about the Slytherin one. Thea inspected her face in the mirror, puckered her lips and battered her lashes. Damn, she was fit.

She loitered in the bathroom for a bit more and then picked up her shoes and went back to the Tower. Maybe she needed to get some sweets in Hogsmeade the next day, she was sort of down. Blagh, Thea hated feeling that way. She fished a chocolate out of her clunch, and chewing it she plodded to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Thea," the soft voice called from the side, and she jumped up.

"Fuck me, don't do that!" She hissed and saw Bofur step out of the shadows by the wall. "Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

"I've been… You didn't come back with others..." He was mumbling, and she gave him a glare. Inside she felt all soft and fuzzy, but no way she was going to bloody let him see it. So he'd been standing here for couple hours? Serves him right.

"The boy is very upset, darling. You should give him the second chance," the Fat Lady was making googly eyes at Bofur, she looked exactly like Thea's mum when watching soap and yelling at her fave characters to 'kiss already.' Thea jerked her chin up and puffed up her chest. And yes, these were glorious tits! Ugh, he was still a bloke, peepers immediately on them.

Thea marched by him and hissed the password to the portrait, but the Lady deftly ignored her and pointed at Bofur with her eyes. Thea widened hers at the Lady. Oh common, she was not going to be bossed around by a piece of canvas with paint smeared on it!

"Let me in, it's after hours and I said the right passord."

"Thea..." Bofur's voice behind sounded like whining of a puppy, and she was that close to turning, but then she caught the Fat Lady's expectant peepers and hissed.

"Let me in, I want to go to bed."

Bofur's hand lay on her arm, she gasped and prepared to give him hell, he was grabbing her! But he softly twirled her around and caught her mouth. On one hand what's with manhandling?! On the other hand… Oh sod it! She wrapped her arms around his neck, dropping her shoes with a loud thud, and the portrait gleefully clapped behind them. They snogged for a bit, and then the Lady delicately coughed.

"It is after hours, so you do need to go inside, but oh!" The Lady gave out a theatrical sigh, "Young love! So envigourating!"

"You are a moron," Thea murmured into his lips, her arms still around his neck.

"And you taste like chocolate," he was grinning from ear to ear, and she pushed him away, picked up her shoes and regally floated inside the tower.

She was not under any circumstances feeling giddy and beaming. Of course not, why would she?!


End file.
